Winning Her Back
by NotYourAverageSchoolgirl
Summary: It's been five years since Harry defeated Voldemort, and he still doesn't have the girl. When he gets the chance to spend time with Ginny during Ron and Hermione's wedding planning, will he succeed in winning her back? NOW COMPLETE. EPILOGUE UP.
1. Chapter 1

**Oh gosh darlings, I know it's been forever but you'll just have to bear with me. This is a new little fic -- I'm sure it will be AU once book 7 comes out (WHO'S EXCITED? I AM!), but I felt like brushing up on my fanfic writing again. It's been oh so long. I think all of my other stories might be on hiatus indefinitely (sorry!), but I'm kind of liking this one. Read and enjoy!**

_It's not fair,_ Harry thought as he clenched his fists together, watching as she waltzed in on the arm of some other bloke, vibrant and lovely in pale green dress robes and a messy up do. The boy hero vanquished the Dark Lord, achieved international wizarding fame, became head of the Auror training program and _still_ didn't get the girl. It just wasn't bloody fair.

It had been five years. Five years since he had defeated Voldemort (an arduous and grim affair he didn't want to go into – not that he hadn't told the story to every bloody media outlet in the wizarding world, not to mention all those writers who hounded him for an exclusive interview so they could write some simpering biography). It had been five years since Severus Snape had thrown himself in front of Harry to save his life. Harry still regretted saying and thinking all those nasty things about Snape while he was still at Hogwarts, but what could he do now? At least the man had died a hero, his name finally cleared. It had been five years since Ron kissed a shocked Hermione on the battlefield and yelled that if they came out of this alive, he was going to marry her someday.

And it had been five years since Ginny Weasley had spoken to him out of anything other than courtesy. For some reason, things had gotten… well, awkward between them after that whole sixth year fiasco. And they had never gotten the same again. Sure, they said hi when they saw each other, and he generally asked her a few questions about work and her life. But for the most part, Ginny Weasley (who worked for a wizarding media firm) remained polite but distant.

It had been almost unbearable for the first year after Voldemort had been defeated – once they weren't working together on the battlefield anymore, it seemed like they had nothing to say to each other. Ginny would stand there and stare at him, as if expecting him to say something, and Harry would duck out of the room in order to hide his reddened cheeks. Once, four years ago, she had cornered him at the Weasley family Christmas party.

"Well," she had stated, hands on her hips. "Don't you think you have something to say to me?"

And Harry, who had just defeated the Dark Lord had been too much of a coward to actually say what he wanted to say, which was something along the vein of, "Yes, Ginny. I'm sorry I've been a prat and I'm utterly in love with you. Please tell me you'll spend the rest of your life with me."

Instead, he had stood there with his hands in his pocket and stared at his toes. His mouth felt dry.

Ginny's voice had softened, almost to a pleading tone. "Won't you even look at me, Harry? Can't you say… I don't know, something? Anything?"

When he couldn't, she had merely sighed, kissed him on the cheek and left the room. At the time, Harry had thought that this was a good sign, that once he got his act together and could utter more than three words around Ginny, she would still be there waiting for him. It had never occurred to him that the kiss on the cheek had been her way of letting go of him.

Anyways, needless to say, Harry was still utterly in love with Ginny and had no way of telling her. Heck, he had no way of telling her what he thought of the latest Daily Prophet headline, much less actually sitting down and having a prolonged conversation with her.

So here he was at some Ministry gala, expected to speak in front of the wizarding world's finest. The fantastic thing about saving the world was that he was invited to all of these events for free. And since his old classmates and friends had all been instrumental in the downfall of the Dark Lord as well, they all got in too. All the balls and galas were like school reunions, except with champagne and fancy hors d'ouvres instead of flat soda and stale biscuits. So all in all, it was a good deal. The only catch was that as THE savior of the wizarding world, he was always invited to be the keynote speaker. And it was just in bad taste to decline, so he always said yes. The problem was that Harry was running out of things to say.

I mean, come on. It had been five bloody years. How many times could he talk about the strength of the wizarding community and how they were going to rebuild for future generations? It was just getting ridiculous.

"Hi there Harry," Lavender Brown came up to him, glittering like an over-glorified disco ball. She had her hair piled atop her head in some curly, stiff confection and wore a gold robe that hugged her body like a second layer of cells. Rumor was that she was trying to seduce her way through every single young male war hero, and Harry had a sickening feeling that he was next. Her attempt to seduce Ron had proven to be utterly disastrous, life-threatening even. Hermione had effectively hexed her into the next week and threatened to destroy her perfectly made-up face next if she so much as looked at Ron. Needless to say, Lavender gave up preying on Ron fairly quickly.

"Er, hi Lavender," Harry replied, and she batted her eyelashes appreciatively. He had to concede that she _was_ rather pretty, but not quite his type. As far as he was concerned, he only had one type, and she was currently across the room, playfully punching the arm of some dashing blond bloke.

Merlin, life was unfair.

"…So I was thinking that we absolutely do not see each other enough, Harry, and that's simply such a shame. I mean, we attended school for a whole seven years together, and so we have this bond, you know? Perhaps we could get together sometime for dinner? Or lunch? Or maybe coffee? What do you say, Harry?"

It was then that he realized that he'd been gazing across the room while Lavender prattled on about… well, whatever she was prattling on about. He turned back to Lavender, who had her head tilted in the expectant look of a Labrador retriever.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Well," Lavender said, twisting her hip up on one side and resting a hand on it seductively. "I was just wondering if perhaps you wanted to. Go. Out. Sometime?"

She asked it just like that, with the unnecessary pauses between each word.

"Erm. Maybe," Harry responded, because he could never say no. Why couldn't he say no? It wasn't that hard. "Just… send me an owl, I suppose. Look, Lav. I've got to go. I think I just saw Hermione and Ron walk in. It was nice talking to you though."

At the mention of Hermione, Lavender turned red and quickly disappeared into the crowd, presumably to go hide in the loo. Harry chuckled to himself. He had to hand it to Hermione – she was downright scary when she was protecting her interests. And her fiancé _definitely_ counted as one of her interests.

Ron and Hermione were indeed making their way into the ballroom, bickering over something from the looks of it. Harry grinned and wove through the crowd towards them.

"-Well if you weren't such bloody _perfectionist_ all the time-"

"Ron, it's our wedding! Don't you want it to be perfect? All I'm saying is that there is a very distinct different in presentation when you have twenty dozen flowers rather than twenty five. Twenty-five says that you're garish, tacky. Twenty is luxurious without being over the top."

Harry shook his head. The wedding was in eight months and already they were arguing about flowers, of all things. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like in the months to come. He made a mental note to stay out of Hermione's way while she was wedding planning.

Ron caught sight of Harry and beamed at him.

"Hullo there, mate! Fancy seeing you here," he said, clapping Harry on the back. "Hermione and I have just been talking about wedding arrangements and what not… It's more of a headache than I thought it would be."

"That's because you never _think_," Hermione muttered darkly under her breath.

Harry smiled wryly. "I could hear you two from across the room," he told them. "Remind me to confiscate Hermione's wand before the wedding date. I have a feeling she'll end up murdering either the caterer or you, and I would hate to lose either a good meal or my best mate."

"Thanks," Ron rolled his eyes. He craned his neck to scan the room, and suddenly squinted as his mouth settled into a perplexed frown. "Hey, is that Ginny over there being escorted out by Ministry security?"

Both Harry and Hermione whipped around to look in the direction that Ron was staring in. Actually, about half the room had ceased their conversations and was intently watching the scene unfold.

…Merlin. That _was _Ginny, kicking and arguing and generally making a big fuss. And that… well that was the bloke she had come with. He was currently on the floor, one hand over his eye, the other pointing at her accusingly.

So Harry had been wrong. That _hadn't _been a friendly punch after all. Knowing Ginny, the bloke was probably going to end up with a black eye.

"What's she done now?" Ron moaned miserably. "And in public too! Mum's going to kill her… Mum's going to kill _me_ if she gets kicked out and there's a line in the paper somewhere, I know it."

Hermione grabbed at Harry's arm. "Come on, Harry. You're the keynote speaker, aren't you? Can't you talk them into letting her stay? Just tell them… well tell them she'll behave."

Harry sighed. He had known that this would happen. It's not that he didn't want to help Ginny; rather, he would do almost anything for her. Sometimes, he lay awake at night and played this game with himself. He'd envision exactly what ludicrous things he'd do for Ginny if she ever asked him to do so. Dress up as a clown? Sure, just toss him a rubber nose. Jump in front of a train? If she were in danger of breaking even a nail, of course he would. Pose nude in one of the ad campaigns she set up? Well… that one was debatable.

Saving Ginny in his fantasy world was all fine and dandy, but it was _different_ in real life. First of all, he'd probably have to talk to her, and though he loved being around her, Harry felt as though he became an awkward 14-year-old again every time he tried to say something to her. The last time he had visited the Weasley household, she had asked, "All right, Harry?" and he had promptly dribbled a mouthful of milk over the front of his shirt. It was just _humiliating. _

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione urged, breaking into his reverie, already pushing through the crowd with Ron in tow.

"I'm coming," Harry said, and steeled himself for whatever was about to come.

**It's been quite a while since I've written fanfic, so I don't know if I want to get into it again. Tell me if this is worth continuing (even if it becomes AU after book 7)! I don't want to waste time on something no one wants to read, haha. **


	2. Chapter 2

**wheee. i've got another little chappie for you, dears! i'm having quite a bit of fun writing this, so hopefully i'll be able to continue, which i know i was absolutely awful at during my first year of college. sigh. updating while i'm in school is pretty much impossible, but i'll try to do as much as i can this summer. **

**many thanks to: PiecesofEight, Literati and naley forever, Charmd5G, Elmire, chocolate's lover, Jamie Bell (I've missed this fanfic thing, haven't you?), Shannonn14, merliedog, sweetblonde15, and Lily-Sun! you reviewers make it all worth it. **

**okay. i'm done talking. here's the chapter!**

"It's none of your business anyway, so why can't you just butt out of it!"

Harry heard Ginny screeching at the security wizard before he could see her face and winced at her enraged tone.

"Ma'am," the security wizard said wearily. Obviously, he had repeated this quite a few times. "Ma'am, we cannot have you assaulting guests at this event-"

"He _lied_ to me!" she cut in. "He told me he was single!"

"-Yes ma'am, you've made that perfectly clear. And let me tell you, I believe you when you say he's a cheating wanker, but we can't have you resorting to violence. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Harry pushed his way through the crowd, effectively stopping Ginny before she said anything stupid.

"What, err, seems to be the problem here?" he asked in the most authoritative voice he could muster. Which, come to think of it, wasn't really all that authoritative. Ginny narrowed his eyes, and he didn't want to think about whether it was an expression of confusion or disgust. Or hate. She could very possibly hate him. Thankfully, the security wizard seemed about as awed of Harry as most other people in the wizarding world.

"Mr. Potter!" he gasped and immediately straightened up, brushing his oily bangs out of his eyes. "We're just… dealing with a security threat, sir."

Harry looked from Ginny (who was standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, pouting in that way he found utterly endearing, if not a little scary) to the bloke she came with, who was still sitting on the floor, scowling.

"What happened here, Miss Weasley?" he asked, ignoring the security wizard completely.

Ginny locked eyes with him and Harry found himself looking away, blushing a little. Damn those age-old reflexes. Couldn't he just look her in the eye once? Wouldn't that make everything so much easier? But no, every time she so much as looked at him, he had to feign an amazing amount of interest in his shoes. Sure, they were Italian leather, but really, they weren't _that_ interesting.

"Well, _Mr. Potter_," she responded mockingly. "I invited Reynard to come to the ball with me because we'd gone on a few dates and I thought he seemed like an okay fellow. So we run into a few acquaintances of his, and all of a sudden, they're asking where his wife _Elizabeth_ is. My name is certainly not Elizabeth, so I obviously demanded the truth out of him, and turns out he's got a wife and two kids that he conveniently forgot to tell me about." Here, she shot Reynard a scathing glare. "Piece of scum."

Harry had to agree, of course. What kind of dirty cheating bastard was this Reynard character? And how could he do this to Ginny? He had a right mind to hex the chauvinistic prick right here.

Ron apparently had the same idea in mind.

"You piece of-" he bellowed, ears turning red before Hermione clapped a hand over his mouth to shush him. When he turned to glare at her, she merely patted him on the head and shushed him.

"Shush, dear. I agree with you perfectly, but let's not make a scene," she said, kissing him on the tip of his nose. Immediately, Ron's ears returned to their normal color. It was amazing, Harry reflected, how perfect for each other those two were. Hermione was the only one who could get Ron really worked up, but at the same time, she was the only person who could calm him down that effortlessly. One look at their tender moment and he felt a little sick. Not because he didn't like them together, mind you. He'd been predicting it for, well, for ages. But it just made him feel a little sick because they were straight out of a muggle romantic comedy (he always browsed through Hermione's collection of films when he stopped by the flat that she and Ron shared) and he didn't think he'd ever get any of that.

If anything, he was the tragic other character in the formulaic love triangle, the one who went back to his habit of pining after the girl and growing a beer belly while the girl and the lead character rode off into the sunset.

…Anyway, that was a sad train of thought, and he didn't want to start being Mopey Depressive Harry. He sometimes got into those moods, especially when he'd been drinking, and from what Hermione and Ron told him, it was not an attractive mood.

"If I have to hear one more rendition of the 'Why My Poor Heart Beats Half-Heartedly' speech one more time," Ron had grumbled on several occasions. "I swear I'll kill you."

Hermione had taken to cutting him off whenever he moaned about his lovelorn issues. "If you like her so much, just _tell_ her," she'd snap. "She's been waiting for five years already. Come on, you're a little slow on the uptake, aren't you? It's _easy_, Harry."

_It is certainly not that easy_, Harry thought grumpily as he stood there, wondering what to say to the security wizard who was looking at him expectantly. Clearly, he was supposed to make some kind of a decision here. He could either walk away to leave Ginny to deal with her romantic mess-up alone, or he could fib his pants off in order to get her out of trouble. He ventured a glance at her face and met pleading brown eyes.

…Bloody hell. Did he have any choice?

"You can't kick Miss Weasley out," he blurted out.

The security wizard opened his mouth and closed it again, clearly at a loss for what to say. On one hand, this was his _job_. On the other hand, he couldn't very well say no to the hero of the wizarding world. He opened his mouth again and settled on asking, "Why?"

"Well," Harry fumbled for a believable story.

He had never been very good at lying. Once he had been on a blind date with some girl from the Ministry named Hannah. She had been rather pretty, but unfortunately only seemed to have two interests – her dog (named Fifi) and her vast make-up collection. When she had asked him if there would be a second date, he had mumbled some excuse about being terribly busy and having to clean his flat. Indefinitely. Clearly, she hadn't believed him, because she gave them this furious look, slapped him across the face and stomped out of the restaurant in her pink stiletto pumps.

So really, Harry was not cut out for lying. His first impulse was to tell the security wizard that he and Ginny were bound together in an arranged marriage and therefore she should stay here with him, but he had a feeling that wouldn't go over well.

"Well, you see," he said. "Miss Weasley here is my speechwriting accomplice assistant… person. And seeing as I'm expected to give a speech in less than half an hour, I really need her assistance right now. So that's why you can't kick her out."

Ginny stared at him incredulously.

Ron coughed violently.

The security wizard looked skeptical.

Harry smiled weakly.

"Well," the security wizard started to say, and Harry was certain that at any moment now, he'd change his mind, bind Ginny up and toss her outside. And Harry really couldn't bear the thought of that.

So he did the only thing he could do. He grabbed a surprised Ginny's hand, pulled her away from the security wizard and smiled winningly. "Sorry, speech coming up and all," he explained as he dragged Ginny along after him, walking quickly through the crowds of guests. "Miss Weasley here still has a lot of editing to do on my speech. Must make it top-notch and all, don't you know."

He continued to drag her through the crowds, not once looking back to see Ginny's face for fear that he'd lose his nerve. The fact that he was holding on to her hand (Ginny's hand! How long had it been since he'd held it, anyway?) caused him to sweat. He didn't even dare to imagine what the expression on her face was right now. Was she disgusted? Peeved? Annoyed? Grateful? The last option seemed very unlikely.

He marched on right out of the ballroom, ignoring the surprised squeak that Ginny let out from behind him. "Where are we going?" she asked. He didn't answer.

Finally, they reached the hotel lobby, where he sat down on one of the plush loveseats and tugged her down beside him. It was only then that Harry realized what he'd just done. He had just dragged Ginny all the way out here for… well, for what? And now he'd have to sit here with her by his side, maybe look into her face and actually talk to her. He shuddered. On one hand, this was the perfect opportunity to start talking to her again. On the other hand, he'd probably just make a fool of himself.

He quickly let go of her hand and made a voice in the back of his throat. It was a noise that sometimes slipped out when he was around Ginny – the noise of an animal in despair.

"So." From the side of his vision, he could see that Ginny was leaning forward on her elbows, running a hand through her mussed-up hair. He turned slightly to look at her, just so he wouldn't seem rude. He managed to settle his gaze on her chin without too much blushing. So far, so good.

Ginny smiled hesitantly. "So," she repeated. "Thanks for saving me back there, Harry. I reckon…" she fiddled with one of her sleeves. "I reckon I got a little carried away back there.

It's just that he was being such a prat, you know? I was really horrified when I found out and I felt like he deserved every punch I threw his way. Don't you agree?"

Harry was momentarily paralyzed by the fact that Ginny was actually smiling and _talking_ to him. "Yes," he nodded furiously, determined not to screw up this rare occasion. "Yes, he was a right bastard, that Reynard. I would've supported you fully if you'd decided to _avada_ him into the ground."

He cursed inwardly as soon as he said it. He sounded a little _too_ enthusiastic, a little barmy, if truth be told.

However, he was surprised when she burst into peals of laughter and leaned in a little closer. "Thanks Harry," she said playfully. "But I don't think you'd be able to get me out of that situation so easily. I reckon I'd be locked up at Azkaban by this time. Anyway," she bent down so she could look him directly in the eyes. Harry swallowed thickly. "I thought your excuse was rather brilliant. A speechwriter, am I?"

Harry nodded. He was both elated and dismayed to find that Ginny was still as charming and, well, as perfect as ever. On one hand, she was so lovely! She had such a clear, lovable laugh. He could fall in love with that laugh and those eyes a million times over. On the other hand, if she continued to be so overwhelmingly charming, there was no way he'd ever be able to talk to her.

"-It's a little silly though," she continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "I mean, imagine not having your speech ready at this point. I've got to practice all my presentations over and over again for days on end just to get them right. Otherwise I get all nervous and tongue-tied and end up turning redder than a tomato in front of the board of directors. Trust me, it's not a pretty sight."

She laughed again and looked at Harry imploringly. He chuckled along weakly.

"Well actually," he mumbled falteringly, staring at his hands. "I, err… haven't got anything prepared for my speech."

There was a shocked silence.

Ginny frowned, searching his face for the slightest hint of a joke. "But… but you can't be serious. You're giving it in," she checked her watch. "Less than twenty-five minutes."

"I was thinking I might just wing it," Harry mumbled in his defense. Which was, he realized, a rather weak defense. Ginny appeared to think so too.

"Wing it?" she asked, clearly scandalized. "Do you think that people paid thirty galleons apiece to hear you get up there and say, 'Err… hi folks. I'm Harry Potter and as you know, I saved the wizarding world. So… let's rebuild the wizarding world together. Err… thank you?'"

Harry was rather disheartened. That _had_ been the gist of the speech he had been planning to give. "I suppose not," he conceded. "But what can I do? It's the same bloody thing each time."

"Well, I'm going to help you write a speech," she said cheerily, pulling a small notepad and a quill out of her bag and plopping down on the ground in order to use the low coffee table in front of them. "And then, you're going to get up there and blow them away."

Harry stared at her as if she were a raving lunatic. A very cute one, no doubt, but still a lunatic. She was sitting on the floor in a pair of gold wedge heels and a dress robe and scribbling madly across a piece of paper. "In twenty minutes?" he asked incredulously. "You're going to write me a speech in twenty minutes?"

Ginny looked up and grinned at him, a loose tendril of red hair falling across her eyes. She brushed it out of the way. "In _less_ than twenty minutes," she said, winking at him cheekily. "I do believe you underestimate my powers, Mr. Potter."

Harry gulped. She couldn't be further from the truth.

**if you're good and you review... i'll give you a butterscotch cookie. AND i'll have the next chapter up sometime tomorrow. i pinkie promise!**


	3. Chapter 3

**i'm really good with updating, see? anyway, i've been thoroughly bored at my internship (you'd think working for a magazine would be FUN), but i am stuck there eight hours a day and i don't think i can reasonably start writing fanfiction without my boss catching on. sooo... i'll try to update as often as i can, but i can't promise that they'll be daily or anything. **

** hooray! i just love getting reviews. thanks to: sweetblonde15, vetura, StaringStars, carolguin, supportLOVE, HPgirl4eva, Literati and naley forever, coconut16 and Shannonn 14.**

** JamieBell: i really want to see you finish Letters and Care Packages! it was one of my favorite hp/gw fics... aaah, i love the office. jim halpert is all i could ask for in a man (seriously, he's adorable). **

**iamchlorine: don't worry, i'm just as unproductive during work -- always sneaking off for breaks :). what pairings do you normally read? i hope you like this chapter!**

**Lily-Sun: of COURSE i'm excited for book 7. i swear, i'm so excited i could pee in my pants. except that would be really disgusting. i'm glad you're enjoying this so far! thanks for reviewing. **

**Alanna n Jon 4ever: i absolutely love james and lily too... though hp/gw is my favorite pairing. i'm glad you're taking the time to read this! it makes me want to get back in the fanfic thing again. **

**elvengirl9: if i remember correctly, you're one of my most loyal reviewers, hehe. thanks so much for taking a look at this one, even though i've been away for FOREVER. and thanks for dredging up your password to leave a review. you're fantastic. **

**Elmire: okay, now that you've told me to continue, i'm going to hold you to this. you have to keep reading and reviewing now. haha.**

** And now, because I'm sure you're all anxious for the story -- chapter theeee.  
**

"And now we have the young man who single-handedly defeated Lord Voldemort. This young man has made it possible for our children to have a safe future, free of prejudice and malice. Please welcome… Mr. Harry Potter!"

The crowd clapped politely from their tables. Harry stepped up to the podium and swallowed. No matter now many times he did this, he still felt nervous each time. Facing the sea of perfectly coifed, expectant faces always made him feel as though his throat was about to close up. He took the piece of paper he had crumpled in his hand and straightened it out as best as he could, placing it on the podium before him. With a quick flick of his wand, he magnified his voice.

"Good evening everyone," he started off, trying to calm his trembling voice. He could see Hermione and Ron smiling up at him reassuringly, which made him feel better. Ginny was seated with them, and she beamed at him as well. This set off butterflies in his stomach, but in a good way.

"I know that gentleman over there just introduced me as the person who single-handedly defeated Voldemort, but there's nothing further from the truth. You see, it wasn't just me. It was all of us – we all worked together and contributed to the war cause because we knew that it was the right cause. It wasn't always the easy cause to support, but it was the right one.

I'm here today to thank and recognize all those who helped in unorthodox ways. We've all lauded our war heroes, those who fought and died in battle, and with good reason too. But I'm here to thank the mothers who talked to their children about what was going on, who set an example of goodness and tolerance. I'm here to thank the business owners who continued to serve those with muggle blood even when they knew it could get them killed. I'm here to thank those who volunteered at the hospitals.

The war was a dark time, but I hope we can all look back and see the good that's come out of it. We're all gathered here together, regardless of blood purity or class division, and that's a step forward."

As he continued to give his speech, he looked over at Hermione and Ron's table. They were both giving him confused looks – to tell the truth, he'd given quite a few half-assed speeches before, and they knew what those sounded like. This one sounded actually planned out, and they were clearly taken aback. He ventured a glance in Ginny's direction and blushed wildly when she caught his eye and smiled softly.

"…So with that in mind, let's celebrate how far we've come. Here's to strength… community… a fresh start… love… and an open bar." He grinned and the crowd clapped enthusiastically.

As he made his way back to his table, the usual line of admirers mobbed him, the men patting him on the back jovially, while the women clasped their hands together and gushed about just how _strong and brave_ he was.

By the time he got back to the table, Ron and Hermione were still seated, but Ginny had moved to stand by another table and chat with some young witches and wizards. Harry assumed that they were her coworkers or friends.

"Great job, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the back. "I guess having your own speechwriter does do wonders, eh?"

"Shut up," Harry mumbled, glancing at the menu in front of him and saying, "Honey roasted duck" clearly into the plate. His dinner popped up before him and he happily dug in. "Ginny did a good job," he conceded between mouthfuls.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a smug, knowing look that Harry found rather irritating. He knew exactly what the look meant. The look was used to convey something along the lines of, "Aww, look at poor smitten Harry. When will he ever figure it out?" It was used most frequently at holiday parties, at dinners at the Weasley household and whenever Harry pointed out an ad that Ginny had worked on. "Hey, didn't Ginny create the slogan for that?" he'd point at a page in the magazine, almost bursting with pride. And Hermione and Ron would exchange that look. Harry hated the look.

"_So_," Hermione leaned forward on her elbows and looked at Harry. "Now that you've finally gotten over that fear of talking to her, what are you going to do about it?"

Harry didn't quite have the heart to tell them that he was still a little tongue-tied around Ginny. He was still practically a mute, really. Well, maybe he wouldn't take it that far. He had at least a vocabulary of fifty words or so when he was around her, but half of them seemed to be different variations of "err."

"I dunno," he admitted, pouring another glass of champagne. "What do you think I should do?"

Ron looked at him as if he were an idiot. "Talk to her, maybe?" he suggested. "Take her out for coffee? I don't know, mate. It's not that hard."

Harry hated it when they said that (which they did, a lot). It was _most certainly_ that hard. How were you supposed to make the leap from barely speaking to someone to proposing marriage? It didn't seem very practical. He opened his mouth to make that very argument, but didn't get very far because at that moment, Ginny came bounding back to their table.

"Great work, Harry," she said evenly with a smile. "The crowd really loved you."

_And I really love you_, Harry thought, but it didn't seem like an appropriate thing to say. So he settled on, "Erm. Thanks."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron gave him an appalled look. To escape their ridicule, he felt as if he _had_ to say something else.

"You did a really great job writing it," he added lamely. "The speech, I mean."

Ginny shrugged one shoulder modestly. "Oh you know… It's what I do after all. What do you think advertising is?" she laughed. "Just a lot of making up pretty phrases, really. I'm used to it."

"Anyway," Harry said, with a tentative smile. He settled his gaze on her forehead. He _was_ getting closer, at least. "Thanks."

"You already said that," Ginny said, tilting her head playfully. "And you're welcome."

Ron and Hermione quickly rose from the table and both gave a very scripted, "Well, I think we're going to go dance!" leaving Harry and Ginny alone.

Ginny stared at Harry for a moment longer, then looked away. She started to turn and say, "well…" as though she was about to leave, and Harry really couldn't bear that thought.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" he blurted out, immediately regretting it afterwards. What a cliché! And besides, where was there to walk? Were they going to take a turn around the ballroom? Wander through the hotel lobby? What kind of a suggestion was that, anyway? Of _course_ she wouldn't say –

"-Yes."

He looked up at her in surprise. Ginny lent against the table, looking at him expectantly.

"So?" she asked. "Aren't we going to go?"

"Erm, sure," he fumbled, a little dazed. "But where are we going to walk?"

"We're in the middle of muggle London, aren't we?" she pointed out. "I'm sure there are tons of streets to wander through, and I'm really interested in seeing all the little muggle shops and what have you."

"It's cold outside," Harry said. At this point, he really wanted to turn his wand on himself. What was wrong with him? Why did he keep making these completely inane comments?

Thankfully, Ginny just chuckled and shook her head. "Don't you have a wand, Harry? Just cast a heating spell on your cloak and come along, you great sissy."

With that, she turned on her heel, her robe swishing behind her. Harry rose and stumbled along after her as she made her way to the hotel exit door. Outside, muggle London was dreary, gray, and yes, it was freezing. Harry cast a heating spell on himself (how had he _not_ thought of that?) and walked alongside Ginny in silence.

Ginny too, seemed enthralled in her own thoughts. She kept her arms across her chest and walked with a distracted expression. Harry wondered how this would turn out. He clearly wasn't going to make an attempt at conversation (that would simply be disastrous) and had been counting on her to talk. That was generally her job when they ran into each other. She would say something like, "Hello Harry," and he would make an incoherent gargle. That was just how things were between them.

But suddenly, Ginny wasn't talking. She was just walking along, her heels clicking softly against the cement sidewalk. He snuck a glance at her profile. Her hair was loose and windblown and her robe was a lovely color on her. She was just so… Merlin, not this train of thought again. If he started thinking about how lovely she was, he'd trip and run into a pole or something. It was bound to happen.

So instead, he concentrated on avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk as he went along. He vaguely remembered old muggle superstition about avoiding cracks and wondered if you could make wishes by jumping over the cracks. He knew exactly what he'd wish for, he thought as he glanced sideways at Ginny.

"Isn't it strange how we just drifted apart?" Ginny suddenly asked.

The question came out of nowhere, and it hit Harry like a bag of bricks. How was he supposed to respond to that? What could he even say?

He settled on, "mmrrhmm," which, though vastly inadequate by normal conversational standards, seemed to be enough for Ginny.

"I mean, really, I have no idea what you've been doing in the past five years."

_Pining after you, obviously._

"-It's strange, we used to talk so easily when we were young. Back in Hogwarts, don't you remember?" she giggled softly. "I remember that one year… I'd keep you up at all hours of the night with my stories. Merlin, they must have been tedious."

Harry shook his head in the negative. "I liked them," he mumbled. "You were funny."

"Though clearly I'm not anymore," she remarked wryly, shaking her head. "It's… Merlin, I'm so sorry I'm unloading this all on you at once," she said, turning to look at him imploringly. "It's just that I've been waiting for the opportunity, you know? You're always so distant and well, closed off. You never want to talk to me. So I never get to say that, you know, we should just put that year behind us."

Harry felt his mouth go dry. He couldn't look Ginny in the eye.

"I mean, yes, it was fantastic while it lasted, but clearly, you're uncomfortable with our past," she continued on. "I just want you to know that I'm definitely not expecting anything from you. Romantically, I mean. I'd just like it if we could try to be friends again."

Harry felt as though he were in some kind of a sick nightmare. This was _not_ how the conversation was supposed to go. Ginny was not supposed to say that she wanted to be _friends_. Because honestly, Harry wanted to be much more than friends. Harry wanted to be her boyfriend, her husband, her soul mate, the father of her children. This was just an unfair twist.

But there Ginny stood, staring at her gold wedges. She sighed deeply. "That's all I wanted to say," she said in a very small voice, and Harry's heart throbbed a little for her. She was just so… vulnerable. And sweet. And she looked so hopeful and scared at the same time.

"Sure," he said, even though it left him with a knot in his throat. "I'd love to be friends."

Ginny suddenly launched herself towards him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck in a hug. Harry was reminded of his sixth year when they won that Quidditch game. She had done the exact same thing, and he was awed at how sweet the gesture was. It was just so _Ginny_.

She let go (too soon, in Harry's opinion) and drew back to beam at him. "I'm so glad, Harry," she exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Me too," Harry responded, though he wasn't sure if he actually believed it.

**i don't have the next chapter ready yet, but i'll try to get it up as soon as possible. you know what would inspire me to write faster? if you left lots of reviews. hehe. i'm such an attention-whore sometimes, it's awful.**


	4. Chapter 4

**gosh! i've been so good with updates. i swear -- i practically spoil you guys! haha. anyway, it's about... oh, six thirty am or so, and i'm just doing a quick update before i scamper off for my morning jog. i bet i'm going to be_ exhausted_ at work today, but i just feel so bad about not exercising often. must keep healthy and all! i am sooo glad that you all reviewed; makes my day, i swear. hopefully, you'll enjoy this chapter. **

**many thanks to: Liinx, elvengirl9, mischa-bee, Literati and naley forever, sweetblonde15, Shannonn14, ReenaP87. **

**Lily-Sun: AH I'm so excited about book 7. dont get me even more worked up! haha. gosh, i want swishy robes like ginny too -- i have the shoes i made her wear though (the gold wedges). haha... i couldn't resist... she's going to get my fashion sense. :) thanks for reviewing, you're pretty much fabulous. **

**iamchlorine: hmm, i'm shipped all your favorite ships too... i'm still a little partial to d/hr sometimes. it's a really fun pairing to read. :D. anyway, i'm a liar. work isn't that bad... i'm basically writing and copy-editing all day. but sometimes they don't give me enough work and i start to go insane in my little cubicle... haha. hope you continue to enjoy this story!**

**CrazyLittleThingCalledLove: hullo kim. you are not a terrible reviewer -- you rock! thanks for taking the time to review; it's nice to know that someone's enjoyin this story. was this updated soon enough for you? hahaha... read and enjoy...**

**Elmire: your english is quite good; i wouldn't have noticed anything if you hadn't pointed it out. i know a lot of people who are born here who have terrible grammar... and trust me, my french is far worse than your english will ever be. j'ai eu la classe francaise depuis... quatre ans, mais je ne peux pas parler tres bien. geeeeh. see? anyway, dont worry about reviewing daily; it's just nice to see you drop in once in a while! **

**JamieBell: yeah i definitely know what you mean. when i come home from work, i always have the urge to pop in a couple episodes of whatever tv show i'm watching and just zone out. and you know, maybe take a nap. it's so hard to keep writing... anyway, where are you working? and how's that going? personally, i can't wait to get back to school -- it's so weird to be home again with all these rules after the first year of college. glad you're enjoying this!**

**DarkyDearest: thanks for picking up this story! i'm glad you're enjoying it... hopefully you'll like this chapter. please continue to read and review! **

** and here's the chappie. whew. finally.  
**

It was the next Saturday night, and Harry was having dinner at the Weasley household. Ginny had owled him the day before to say that she really hoped he would be there, seeing as they were embarking on a new friendship together and all. Harry felt a little tortured by this note. He didn't want to just embark on a new friendship with her, though he supposed that was probably the first logical step.

In any event, now that he had to actually _talk_ to her, Harry felt more nervous than ever. He floo'ed over to Ron and Hermione's flat.

"What do I wear?" he whined when they looked up from their position in front of the telly.

"What do you mean, what do you wear?" Hermione asked blankly, staring at Harry. "You always wear the same thing – pants and a jumper. What do you want me to say?"

"Ginny and I are going to be friends," he said, as if that explained everything.

Ron guffawed. "And this means that you need a whole new wardrobe?"

Harry gave up and accepted the fact that he was probably going to go in what he was wearing now – a pair of jeans and a forest green jumper. His hands shot up to his hair, but as soon as he started tugging it down, Hermione gave him a sad look. It was the look that meant, "Don't bother. It's not going to help anyway." So he stopped.

"What are you two watching anyway?" he asked, plopping down on the couch beside Ron.

"Some wedding show," Ron answered, eyes glued to the telly. "It's really fascinating, how much work people put into these things." He sighed and shook his head. "Looks like we've got a lot to do still, eh Hermione?"

Hermione was busy taking down notes as she watched the trays of cakes and yards of silk float across the television screen. "Yes, dear," she responded distractedly. "We only have a little over seven months left, you know. That's hardly enough time for me to plan out the seating plan."

Ron sighed. "And the flowers! Merlin, look at the flowers. Are we going with the lilies or the white roses?"

Harry had to contemplate on how frighteningly domesticated Ron had become on the past few years. He was still his best mate who loved Quidditch and frequenting pubs, yes, but he had also picked up some new habits. Harry distinctly remembered the day he had floo'ed into Ron's flat and found him hovering near the oven with mitts on. The scent of some baked confection floated through the kitchen.

"What are you _doing_?" he had asked.

Ron's ears had turned red as he turned around to face Harry. "I'm baking a soufflé for Hermione," he had said almost antagonistically, as if challenging Harry to say something.

Harry didn't say anything.

"What?" Ron demanded, his ears turning redder by the minute. "Is there something wrong with making my girlfriend her favorite dessert? Is there something wrong with expressing my love? Because let me tell you, mate, it doesn't make me any less of a man-"

Harry had sniggered. "No Ron, I don't think you're any less of a man when you're wearing a floral apron. Really, I mean it."

And it was true, he reflected. Ron was still very much a man's man, even when he was helping Hermione pick out specific flowers. He just happened to be a man who was in love and who was willing to make compromises. And suddenly, Harry found himself envying his best mate a little bit.

"-So Harry, are you ready to floo over to Mum's for dinner?" Ron asked, breaking into his thoughts. Harry got up and nodded. Here it was. He was going to go face Ginny for the first time in five years as "friends." She would try to make conversation, no doubt. And he would somehow end up making a fool of himself.

"I'm ready," he said grimly, straightening his shoulders.

Hermione and Ron gave each other a look and burst into laughter. For the life of him, Harry could not figure out what they found so hysterical. Here he was, about to go and face one of the most difficult tasks of his _life_ (behaving like a normal human being in front of one Miss Ginny Weasley) and his best friends were _laughing _at him.

He scowled. "_What_?"

"It's just…" Hermione leant on Ron to steady herself, and he looped an arm around her waist. Right. They were just _so_ disgustingly adorable sometimes that Harry wanted to kill himself. "It's just that you look like you're about to go towards your death or something, Harry. Really. It's just dinner, and we'll be here to back you up if you manage to botch it up somehow."

"You weren't there to help me the other times," he muttered darkly, remembering the time he saw Ginny, backed into the stove and accidentally caught on fire. Ron and Hermione had just laughed then.

When Harry found himself at dinner seated directly next to Ginny, he didn't quite know whether to curse his luck or thank whatever higher power there was out there.

"Hi Harry!" she had cried out after he had said hello to Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. She came bounding over in jeans and a loose Chudley Cannons t-shirt, and it was all Harry could do to maintain his composure.

"Err… hello there, Gin," he had mumbled.

…What in the world was _that_? _Gin_?! Since when did Harry call people by nicknames? Now this was just embarrassing, he berated himself miserably. He had practically gone and botched up the whole "friends" thing already.

Surprisingly, Ginny didn't say anything; she just grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the dining room. "You must be starving," she said brightly as she led him to the table. "I know I am. It was a pretty intense day at work – we had this new hair potion campaign that I could _not_ come up with anything interesting for. I mean, how many different ways can you say 'luscious locks'? Really."

Dinner was unremarkable, as far as dinners at the Weasley household went. The whole family ate dinner together every Saturday night, just for the sake of tradition. Sometimes a sibling or two would be missing, away on vacation or urgent business, but for the most part, everyone showed up. Today, Fred and George were not in attendance.

"Ever since they franchised their shops, they've been up to their knees in paperwork," Mrs. Weasley fretted as she spooned steaming lumps of mashed potatoes onto little Genevieve Weasley's plate.

"Merci, grand-mere," the girl said, bursting into a dazzling smile, and Mrs. Weasley paused to pat her on the head fondly. Fleur sat beside Bill, cuddling her two-month-old baby boy, Etienne. To say that Mrs. Weasley doted on her grandchildren would be an understatement. The woman adored her grandchildren. She kept photos of them posted all around the Burrow and showered them with gifts and sweets. In fact, she had gone to the bookstore and picked up a few tomes on elementary French, just so she could converse with her grandchildren in both of their native languages.

"The family's growing," she would say, to anyone who'd listen. "Bill and Fleur have two _gorgeous_ children, and if you ask me…" here she'd wink. "We won't have to wait long 'til Ron and Hermione start having children."

This speech would always make Ron sputter indignantly and Hermione blush. Harry simply found it hilarious.

As he shoveled food into his mouth and listened to the family talk and carry on about the twins' latest pranks (some things never changed, apparently), Percy's latest letter home ("That pretentious git actually addresses the letter 'To Whom It May Concern,'" Ginny chortled with a fond shake of her head) and Genevieve's latest accomplishment ("She just learned the alphabet!" Bill announced proudly), Harry thought of, well, how nice it all was.

Where would he be without the Weasleys, anyway? They were the closest thing to a family he had. And well, he wanted to keep this forever.

"So, Harry," Ginny said, turning slightly sideways and grinning. "How's your life been, Boy Wonder? Saved the world lately?"

He swallowed his mouthful of mashed potatoes and took a swig of cold pumpkin juice. "No actually," he responded with a sigh. "Can't seem to do anything quite that important anymore… I reckon I've lost my touch. And," he added, narrowing his eyes. "Don't call me Boy Wonder. It's really just Plain Old Harry the Sad Arse now."

Harry mentally patted himself on the back. He had actually managed to get that much out without spilling juice on himself or turning beet red! He was making progress!

"I'm not going to argue with that," Ginny said, shaking her head in a mock-mournful gesture. "It must be such a tragically boring life to be the most celebrated hero in the wizarding world and, according to Witch Weekly, the Most Eligible Bachelor of All Time." She giggled. "Can you believe that? They created a new title for you. Aren't you flattered?"

She was so pretty when she was smiling at him like that, her head tilted and her eyes sparking that Harry couldn't help it. He merely gaped. And then… well, he felt liquid dribble onto his lap. Apparently, gaping while one's mouth was full of pumpkin juice was an invitation for disaster. Harry felt his neck and cheeks burn as he frantically fumbled with his napkin to cover up his lap.

Bloody hell, he had done it again. He had made a complete fool of himself. He had dribbled in his _lap_, for Merlin's sake! He probably looked like some drooling idiot who couldn't carry on a proper conversation, which was exactly what he _was_, come to think of it, and Ginny would always remember him as Harry Who Drools and she'd never fall in love with him and ---

"-Harry," Ginny said, covering his hand with hers. Harry couldn't look at her – he could hear it in her voice, she was laughing at him. There was that amused tone that he was so familiar with; he knew each nuance of her voice. "Harry," she said again, more gently this time. "Look at me."

He looked up, slowly, because after all, he couldn't say no to her. And Ginny was, well, she was just smiling at him in this soft, imploring way that he couldn't quite decipher. "It's okay, you know," she said, gesturing to his lap and laughing slightly. "I do it all the time. When I had a power lunch with my first client, I was so nervous I spilled a glass of iced lemonade all over myself." She chuckled. "You know how much of a klutz I am."

She glanced down at his lap again and flicked her wand out, casting a quick drying spell. "There," she said, looking up at him. "All better now."

Harry became aware of the fact that her hand was still resting on hers. And she was just so close – he could smell a faint hint of citrus and something sweet. His mouth went dry as he allowed himself to look into her eyes, his brain short-circuiting so that all the conversation in the room was reduced to a mere buzz and all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Ginny's smile disappeared as she looked at him, and her lips parted slightly. Merlin, all he had to do was lean in, just a little bit, and cover her lips with his own. It had been such a long, long time, after all –

_Pop_!

Harry jumped back guiltily, pulling his hand away from Ginny's as a loud pop announced Charlie's arrival.

"Hey everyone!" he called out, clearly oblivious to what had just nearly transpired at the dinner table. He plopped himself down at the table and ladled great mountains of food onto his plate. "Blimey, I'm starved. The food looks great, Mum!"

Harry glanced around the table nervously. It seemed as if no one had noticed the "moment" he and Ginny had just shared. Was that even possible? It had seemed so _obvious_, so intense to him. The fact that he had almost _kissed_ Ginny and everyone else had just continued on with their conversations seemed absurd. The world had stopped for a moment, and Ron had just gone on blabbing about Quidditch.

He ventured a look at Ginny and saw that she was sitting there, staring at her plate with an inscrutable expression on her face.

Oh Merlin. What was going to happen now?

**once again, next chapter is not written. review or i'll stop writing it. yes, that's a threat. **

**hehe, just kidding. i'll continue to write, of course. but review and you'll receive a shower of sparkling imaginary stars. how's that?**

**i'm going to go wake up my dog and go for a run now. bye! **


	5. Chapter 5

**to my dearest readers: here's the new chapter! i'm so antsy now that book 7 is_ sooo _within reach. i just want to reach out, grab it and read it voraciously. goodness. but of course, since i'm starting to get a little attached to this fic, i'm afraid everyone might give up on reading it once it's rendered AU (which it undoubtedly will be). ah well. might as well write out as much as i can while i have the chance, eh?  
**

**thanks to: literati and naley forever, Shannonn14, ReenaP87, nicky, PiecesofEight, roonilwazib7, and angel003. **

**JamieBell: at least you're making money at your job -- i've got an unpaid internship (gah). it's very frustrating, but at least i'm enjoying it somewhat. even if i've got to live a life of abject destitution. sometimes you gotta make compromises. anyway, glad you're liking the story:) pleeease update letters and care packages. i know i ask you all the time and it must get obnoxious, but they're so close to getting together. so close!**

**elvengirl9: haha, if i were in that scene i'd be in the background shouting "kiss her!" too. of course i've been good about updating? how could i be otherwise when i've got such a fabulous gaggle of reviewers? **

**Sabriel Anna: ah i'm so scared you'll all stop reading this once book 7 comes out! H/G are my favorite couple also, naturally. i can't wait for them to get together already:) **

**sweetblonde15: haha, your babblings are fun. yeah, i wish all guys would make fools of themselves too, just so i don't feel so awkward all the time, haha. it'd be excellent if they could be the ones tripping and running into doorways for once (i've done that once or twice). **

**Darkydearest: ahh thanks for reviewing. i'm glad this chapter makes you feel even BETTER after the wakeboarding incident (which is very cool, btw. i wish i could wakeboard. well, to begin with, i wish i were anywhere near the beach). **

**mischa-bee: haha there's NO way i'll be able to finish this story before book 7 comes out... but at least i'm updating as fast as i can, right? i hope this chapter sates your appetite for harry/ginny goodness:) thanks for reviewwwing. **

**Lily-Sun: I'm always online laughing at something, and my parents think i'm insane. like when i'm on instant messenger and someone says something hysterical... gah, embarrassing. anyway, IT'S ALMOST HERE. ... eheheehe. hope you like this chapter!**

**vanillabean75: i guess i should offer some background for why harry finds it so hard to talk to ginny! i'll try introducing that in a couple chapters, but thanks for the tip. i hope you find this chapter satisfying! **

**charleegirl: guess what? i totally listened to you and updated on time! aren't you glad? now it's your duty as a reviewer to go read and review. it's only fair. **

**Elmire: it's so neat that you work at a museum? which one do you work at? anyway, thanks for all the kind words -- i'm practically blushing. i'm glad you liked harry drooling, although i didn't picture a fat cat when i thought of him (haha!). that made me laugh. anyways, your english is very very good -- it's been so long since i practiced my french. i was rereading le petit prince to brush up on it, but somehow i dont think that's the same as taking lessons. hopefully i'll be able to get into a french class this year at the university. anyways, hope you like this chapter!!! **

**FINALLY it's here, darlings. actually... i updated pretty quick. but hopefully you enjoy it. chapppter five!**

"Ron, I don't know what to do," Harry moaned to his friend as he accompanied him to Diagon Alley. Ron had been sent on the rather important task of visiting The Sweetshop and picking out "several cake options." "I mean, I almost _kissed _her! And now it's been two weeks and I haven't seen her and it's driving me mad. I went for five years without talking to her, and now all of a sudden, two weeks away from her is _killing me_."

It had been two weeks since that potentially disastrous dinner at the Weasley household. And Harry hadn't seen or heard from Ginny since. Well… that was a bit of a lie – she had owled him a couple days later, but it was a very short and impersonal note. He had spent a good few days scrutinizing the note, which said, in Ginny's loopy script: _Hullo Harry, how are you doing? Just wanted to drop you a line to say that it was nice to see you again. I'm awfully swamped at work, but owl me if you'd like to meet up or something. –gin_

What, exactly, Harry wondered, did she mean by, "it was nice to see you again"? And was she _really_ busy at work, or was that just an excuse to get away from him? In the end, Harry had been too much of a coward to respond. And now it was driving him mad. Was he supposed to respond to that? Was she angry with him? Was he just an idiotic prat? These were all relevant questions that Harry couldn't answer for himself.

Ron was clearly unsympathetic. As they passed by the glass displays of different types of cake, he leaned in close to scrutinize each slice from multiple angles. "What do you think?" he muttered, disregarding his best friend's agitated state. "Shall we go with the chocolate mousse or the strawberry filling? Blimey, this is difficult."

"I don't care about the cake!" Harry yelped indignantly. Here he was, having a very real crisis and his best friend wouldn't even stop prattling on about whether or not the "flavor of grated orange peel would complement a dark chocolate coating." Merlin, Hermione had influenced him. Once, he had even used the term "vacillating" to describe his current state of mind. It was something Harry would've never been able to predict.

"Well you should care," Ron griped, glancing down at the detailed page of notes that Hermione had handed to him. "The cake is a very important element of the wedding banquet, you know. And besides," here his chest seemed to puff up considerably. "Hermione _trusted_ me with getting this right."

Merlin, Harry was going to retch. He was going to spew the contents of his breakfast on the shiny pink tiles of this stupid sweet shop. Ron was just so… _domesticated._

Ron must've read Harry's expression because he immediately turned red. "Don't look at me like that, mate," he said gruffly. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to get my wedding day right, eh? I think I've botched things up enough with Hermione in the past," he chuckled. "You know, all through our Hogwarts days. And I reckon it's time I try to make it up to her."

Harry stared. "Ron…" he stated haltingly. "I think that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."

As soon as he said it, he realized that he had spoken a little too loudly, for the old woman beside him turned quickly to give him an astonished look. And he realized… well, that his last statement could've been misinterpreted.

"Oh, no ma'am," he said, waving his hands in front of him. "I'm not, uh… it's not what… umm, we're not…"

"Don't worry about it, young man," she managed to squeak out. "I don't judge the lifestyle choices of others." And with a very meaningful glance at both him and Ron, she hobbled out of the store.

Harry and Ron stood in awkward silence for a moment.

Finally, Ron spoke up, ruffling the back of his head bashfully. "Did she --?"

"Yeah," Harry replied curtly, effectively cutting him off. "Yeah, she did."

"Let's not talk about that, then," Ron said.

"Agreed. Let's just look for your cake."

So the two friends spent a good hour looking at cake slices, even though Harry was deathly bored and couldn't care less if they went with normal cream or a fondant frosting. Really, it was just incredibly tedious, and not nearly as interesting as the topic he _really_ wanted to be focused on –Ginny.

"The chocolate-raspberry mousse or the tiramisu? What do you think, Harry?"

In the end, Ron took a slice of both the chocolate-raspberry mousse and the tiramisu home to consult with Hermione. It was just too difficult a choice – one was filled with tangy-sweet goodness, while the other had rum drizzled over it. _Rum_. Ron loved rum.

"Thanks for helping me with that, Harry," Ron said as they apparated back to his flat and slid the box of cake into the magically-refrigerated cabinet. He grabbed a couple bottles of butterbeer and set them on the counter, twisting the cap off of his with a satisfying _pop_.

"Not a problem," Harry responded morosely, taking a sip of his own butterbeer. He wondered if it was possible to drown his sorrows in butterbeer. House elves could certainly get drunk off of it – but how much would it take to get _him_ drunk? Probably best just to nip down to the liquor store and pick up a bottle of vodka… something nice and strong so he could just pass out…

_Merlin_. He mentally shook himself. He was thinking like an alcoholic! And he didn't even like the taste of alcohol – in his mind, he was probably better off chugging down toilet drainer or something. It probably tasted quite similar. He was just getting into his self-pitying state again, and he was a rather clichéd self pity-er. Ginny would certainly scoff at him for being so uncreative; she was always rambling on and on about innovative design and all that…

"Hey," Ron's voice broke into his thoughts. "Look, we're having a robe fitting for everyone in the wedding party next week… Sunday, I think. You're going to have to be there 'cos you're the best man and all." He grinned. "And you know, Gin will be there too, I reckon. She has to get fitted for her bridesmaid robe."

"Really?" Harry felt his throat tighten. Ginny was going to be there? Well that would be just… perfect. Perhaps Ron was useful for some things once in a while. "I'll be there," he assured Ron.

Ron smirked. "I knew you would."

The smug prat.

The two friends spent the afternoon watching Quidditch and flipping through the muggle channels on the telly. Ron convinced Harry to watch some dreadfully dull History Channel piece on Medieval warfare. "Would you look at_ that_?" he exclaimed, pointing at the catapults and a reenactment of soldiers pouring boiling oil onto oncoming invaders. "The muggles pour hot oil onto their enemies! Merlin, that's vicious. No _wonder_ Hermione gets so violent sometimes."

Harry had a feeling Hermione wouldn't appreciate that comment very much if she were here, but thankfully, she was out tending to some wedding business – "renting out a venue or something," Ron said with a dismissive wave.

When Harry finally apparated back to his own flat, it was well past dark. His flat was empty, except for a softly hooting Hedwig, and he suddenly felt rather lonely. Ron could look forward to Hermione apparating home by bedtime. Harry really didn't have anyone – not even a roommate. He and Ron had shared a flat for a couple years after Hogwarts, but it soon became clear that Ron wanted to move in with Hermione. And of course, that made sense. They were in love. They _should_ live together to make sure they could cohabitate without hexing each other to smoldering piles of dust. And Harry was very happy for them.

Really.

He didn't resent or envy them at all.

He wandered into his bedroom and sat down at his desk. Ginny's letter still sat there, the edges worn from all the times he had picked it up and read it over again. To be honest, Harry didn't plan on tossing it out. After all, this was the first form of written correspondence he'd received from her in over five years. Honestly, he should _frame_ the note.

…That wasn't such a terrible idea, now that he thought of it. Then it would never get ripped, and the ink wouldn't fade and…

Harry was about to go and find a frame when he realized how ridiculous the idea was. If Ron, Hermione, or, Merlin forbid, _Ginny_ ever came to his flat unexpectedly and found her note framed and placed strategically by his bed (so he could look at it while falling asleep, of course), he would never hear the end of it.

It was a tempting, but ultimately stupid idea.

But maybe… well maybe he could write back to her. Her original message had been innocent enough, depending on how you interpreted it. And she probably _did_ expect a response. It had been two weeks, and she probably thought he was an unresponsive wanker. Which, on second thought, he really was.

And he didn't want Ginny to think bad things of him. That would just interfere with the master plan, which was of course, to win her back. He didn't have the slightest clue as to _how_ he was going to win her back, but the important thing was that he _was going to_. It could take sixty years and he'd still doggedly continue. He _was _the Boy-Who-Lived, after all.

So though it made his insides knot up with worry (_every_ hero had to have a weakness, after all), Harry determinedly pulled out a sheet of fresh parchment and a quill.

_Dear Ginny, _

…. No, that wasn't right. He couldn't just start off a letter with _Dear Ginny_ – it was just too suggestive. He tore off the top of the parchment and started again.

_Hello Ginny,_

_Sorry it took me so long to respond – I reckon you think I'm a right prat. I'd love to see you sometime soon. Maybe we could go for some hot cocoa or something – I know this great muggle place. I'll pay, since I owe you for the speech and all. But anyway, if you'd ever like to get some hot cocoa as friends and if you'll let me pay (as a friend), I'd love to see you again. I'm free almost all the time (except for when I'm working, but I could probably sneak out for a long lunch)._

_-Harry _

He surveyed the letter. It was… well a little awkward, but it said everything that he wanted to convey. Before his nerve could run out, he called Hedwig over and tied the letter to her leg. "Make sure it gets to her, okay?" he whispered. Hedwig tilted her head at him and gave (it might have been his imagination) a very knowing hoot.

"Oh shut it," he muttered, opening the window for her.

…Even his bloody _owl_ knew that he was madly in love with Ginny.

With that behind him, Harry suddenly felt exhausted. He changed into his pajamas and buried himself underneath his blankets. Within moments, he was blissfully asleep, floating through fuzzy dreams of pretty redheads and sunny days.

When he woke up, Hedwig's cage was empty. Harry frowned as he went into the kitchen to make himself breakfast. Being a bachelor, he pretty much subsisted on whatever he could easily whip up in five steps or less. His attempts at cooking long complicated meals had all ended up disastrously (at one point, he had to hire a brigade of a dozen house elves to clean up the mess – and even _they _had seemed appalled), so he stuck to the basics. Today seemed like a pancake mix day, which was in his "medium" complexity range.

As he mixed the batter (it was brilliant how he only had to add water), Hedwig flew in through the kitchen window, bearing a small package in one of her claws. Harry was glad no one else was in the flat at that point – because it was rather embarrassing how frantically he dove for the owl.

Hedwig hooted in alarm and disapproval and dropped the package on the floor as Harry flung himself to the ground and grabbed the package.

…Yes, it was sent and addressed from one Miss Ginny Weasley. And _yes_ it did carry a letter. He unfolded it with fumbling hands.

_Dear Harry, _(she said 'dear'! he thought exuberantly)

_You're quite right – you _are_ a prat for taking so long to respond. Just kidding. I'm sure my letter just got lost in the gigantic pile of fan mail you must receive. Goodness, it's so _difficult_ being the famous Harry Potter's friend! I don't know if I can put up with the inconveniences. _

_Anyways, hot cocoa sounds absolutely brilliant – I've been craving some liquid chocolate to pour down my throat. I haven't any meetings on Tuesday, so I can probably nip out of work at 3 or so. Are you free then? I have no idea where this muggle café is, and I'm hesitant to venture through muggle London by myself, so I hope you don't mind apparating over to my flat and picking me up. Come on, Mr. Potter. I need you to guide me to this brilliant muggle place of yours. Don't let me down. _

_Since Hedwig practically refused to leave when I fed her some of my homemade owl treats (honestly, Harry, don't you feed her?), I felt it prudent to enclose a little package of treats for her. That's the only way I could convince her to return to you. And since I thought you were probably a poor starving bachelor as well, I sent over a few sugar cookies I baked last night. Be grateful, alright?_

_Cheers,_

_Gin _

Harry grasped the piece of parchment in his hand as Hedwig hooted impatiently for her owl treats. _Merlin_ it was good to hear from Ginny again – the way she wrote was just so utterly _Ginny_.

"Maybe I should frame this one, huh girl?" he asked Hedwig as he tore open the bag of treats for her. "Gin's just that special."

Hedwig's beak was full, but if she could have, she would've hooted in agreement.

**read and review, please! pretty please with a side of whipped cream... i promise i'll make the next chapter rather adorable. **


	6. Chapter 6

**aaaah! it's finally here! i'm sure everyone is at home, buried in their copies of hp and the deathly hallows, but i decided that i should send off one last update before i went off on vacation. i'll be gone for two weeks, which is oh-so-tragic in terms of updating (sigh!), but i'm way excited because i'll be over on the east coast! haven't been there, so i'm thrilled to be hitting up the national monuments. so... don't think i'm abandoning this! i'll be back in a couple weeks and raring to update:) **

Chapter 6

"Alright everyone, early dismissal today," Harry announced to his exhausted class as they cheered at their unexpected luck.

It was Tuesday afternoon, and Harry had been teaching his Aurors-in-training diversion tactics all day. They had gone through obstacle courses, practiced role-playing exercises and frantically copied down notes during lecture. All in all, he had a dedicated class of 15 students and he was very proud of them all.

"Hey June," he heard one of his male students call out nervously. "Since we're getting out early, do you reckon… well uh, do you think you'd want to go get some cider? Or listen to some music? Or anything…?"

He chuckled to himself as he watched June turn around slowly, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Ugh, Garrett, I'm _exhausted,_" she groaned. "I just want to go home and take a long bath. I'm all covered in grime – it's disgusting."

Garrett deflated considerably and Harry felt sympathy for the poor boy. "Oh," he mumbled, quickly gathering his things together and shuffling towards the doorway. "I guess I'll just go…"

"-But if you'd like to go grab something for dinner later tonight, I'd be up for it," June added.

The boy's face lit up like a light bulb as he nodded furiously. "Sure! That sounds great!" he said enthusiastically as June giggled and shook her head.

…Yes, Harry _did_ love his job. But today, all he could think about was getting over to Ginny's flat and picking her up. He had looked it up, and as luck would have it, the Muggle café was a mere five blocks away from her flat. So he could just pop on over to her flat and they could walk there together… That would certainly be romantic.

He mentally shook himself.

_Friendly_. That's the word he was looking for. The walk would be _friendly_, not _romantic_. It would be filled with safe, friendly conversation starters, like "How's work, Ginny?" and "Is your mum in good health?" He would _certainly_ not ask inappropriate questions like, "So, are you seeing anyone?" or "Would you like to see _me_?"

Before heading out, he stopped at the restroom to check himself in the mirror. Harry had taken extra care to pick out his nice wool coat today and had even attempted to comb down his hair (futile, as usual). Well, he thought, looking at the worried bespectacled young man looking back at him – he didn't look _awful_. And besides, why did it matter? This was a friendly thing.

Yes. A friendly thing.

With a sigh, he took out his wand and apparated to Ginny's flat.

Harry stood on the steps of Ginny's flat for a couple of minutes, trying to calm himself. This was _not_ a big deal. It was just hot cocoa with a friend. Yes, it was a friend he fancied more than life itself, but still. It was just hot cocoa. He could pretend that he didn't like her—he'd just pretend that she was Ron. They came from the same family anyway, had the same hair color and pale skin. It couldn't be _that_ hard.

Feeling a little better, he pressed the doorbell.

…_Still doing okay_, he thought as he heard footsteps approach from inside. He'd just pretend that she was Ron.

And then she opened the door.

And she was most _definitely_ not Ron.

Ginny was all smiles and upswept hair when she opened the door, trailing a long maroon and gold scarf behind her.

Harry felt his mouth go dry. "Gryffindor colors, huh?" he managed to croak out, nodding towards the scarf.

"Oh definitely," Ginny laughed, winking playfully as she leaned against the door to prop it open. "I've still got house pride, you know. To this day, I can't help but think 'Slytherin slime' when I see the likes of Draco Malfoy, even though he's supposedly reformed and all that."

She gestured towards the hallway. "Come in, Harry. I've got to find a coat and my bag."

Harry reluctantly followed her into the flat and looked around awkwardly. This was, he realized, the first time he'd been inside Ginny's flat. They just hadn't been on great terms when they ended things five years ago and so he'd never so much as come to her flat for a party.

As Ginny retreated into her bedroom, calling over her shoulder for Harry to make himself at home, he took the opportunity to look around. The flat was definitely smaller than his, but cozy. She had decorated her walls with large black and white photographs – still ones, he realized, and had painted the walls a deep blue. There was something about the whole place that was incredibly calming… Harry thought that maybe he felt a little more at home here than he did in his own flat.

But before he could contemplate that further, Ginny emerged from her room wearing a red peacoat and a pair of jeans. "All ready to brave the cold London air!" she cried exuberantly, skipping over to Harry and surprising him by linking her arm with his. "All right, Mr. Potter. Lead me to the hot cocoa."

As they walked into the brisk winter air, Harry marveled at how _right_ it felt to be walking with Ginny arm in arm down the street in broad daylight. He had never even gotten to do this while they were together (all those years ago) because the threat of Death Eaters had loomed over their heads. But now – now it was okay. And so he let himself enjoy the walk and the (somewhat) easy conversation that came with it.

"So Ginny, how's work going for you?"

"Oh, you know – the usual. I get to the office, grab a cup of coffee to help me function. Then I start throwing out brilliant, creative ideas. It's fun, really; I can't complain. I get to make things pretty and smart looking all day. How about you?"

"Oh… I like teaching. They're really good kids and they're actually determined to make a difference, which is kind of inspiring." He chuckled self-consciously. "Sometimes it freaks me out – how much they look up to me. I don't think I deserve it."

"Don't say that." Her warm eyes sparkled and Harry gulped. "You're the greatest role model we've got for our future generations… and yes, I mean that. Merlin, I'm inflating your ego, aren't I?" She laughed.

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably and changed the subject. "I don't know… so are you excited for Ron and Hermione's wedding?"

"Am I ever! It's about time, really. I think it's going to be so lovely, you know – childhood sweethearts and all."

A snort. "They were hardly sweethearts at Hogwarts."

"True, but you've got to understand that Ron's a daft git. All that incessant teasing was his way of showing affection. And Hermione – well Hermione's bad with the whole feelings thing. So all that homework help was _her_ way of showing that she cared."

"So basically they've been flirting madly since first year. They just didn't know it."

"Basically."

They walked in a comfortable silence for a while, Ginny glancing at the Muggle buildings in wonder while Harry tried not to dwell on the fact that he arm was still loosely looped around his. Between those layers of wool and cotton, they could be _touching_. The very idea made him lose his nerve.

"Is this it?" Ginny asked, pointing at the shop in front of them. The Chocolate Shop (adequately and practically named) stood in front of them. It was a cozy little shop with circular wooden tables in front of the shop and flowerboxes in the window. "It's so charming," she breathed.

"Come on, then," Harry said, leading her inside because he didn't know what else to say.

They sat down at a rickety wooden table by the window where they could watch people hurrying on by as they left work for home. Ginny leaned forward on her elbows and watched the cars and bicycles whizzing by. "Dad would _love_ this," she remarked, shaking her head. "He'd be ecstatic if he could just sit here for hours and watch the Muggles pass by."

Harry observed her as she sat there, the sun streaming onto her hair and illuminating her face as she smiled to herself. She really _was_ lovely, he thought with a sigh. But this was just a friendly excursion. Right.

He ordered two mugs of hot chocolate (dark chocolate and hazelnut with extra froth on the top) and watched as the waitress brought them and set them on the table.

"Try it," he commanded as Ginny thanked him and lifted her mug. "It's _heavenly_."

"Wow," she responded, quirking an eyebrow. "That's some high praise coming from you. I guess I'll have to taste this heavenly chocolate." And with that, she brought the steaming mug to her lips. Harry did the same and tasted the thick bittersweet chocolate. It was just as good as he remembered – maybe better, he reflected, now that he had Ginny here.

"You're right," she giggled. "It's perfect. I'm going to have to come here more often. I think you've turned me onto a new addiction, Harry. Shame on you."

Harry continued to sip on his chocolate and watch Ginny. She had taken off her coat – revealing a lavender sweater that dipped so he could see her smooth neck and collarbone. Merlin. He hoped that he could continue to drink without spilling on himself. If she so much as smiled for too long, he would lose his nerve for certain.

"So, ermm…" Harry fumbled with his words, trying to break the silence. "Are you seeing anyone right now?"

…Merlin, he deserved a kick in the head. Or maybe a good silencing charm that would last _forever_. What in the world had possessed him to ask that question?! It was the one question he had told himself _not_ to ask and it just slipped out like _that_.

He was such a sodding idiot, such a bloody git, such a –

Ginny laughed, her eyes crinkling in a way that effectively chased away all of his thoughts for the moment. "Oh _Merlin_, no!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "After that whole Reynard fiasco? I don't think so. I'm terribly paranoid now – I'm convinced that every man who flirts with me is married or a psychopath." She took another sip. "How about you, Harry? With the number of admirers you've got, I'm sure you have no shortage of beautiful women throwing themselves at you."

He shrugged. What he would like to say, of course, was that there was really only one beautiful woman for him. And she was sitting across from him, twisting the charms on her bracelet in a way that seemed so alarmingly adorable he thought he might be running a fever. Or hallucinating. Or something like that. Because there was no way playing with jewelry could be considered that endearing.

"No," he mumbled in reply. "There's been no one, really." _Since you_. "All the girls who admire me are brainless slags who only want me for my money and fame."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"It's _true_," he insisted. "One girl asked me if I'd make her sign a prenuptial on the _first date_. None of them were interested in getting to know me," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Damn. It was messy, as always. "They only wanted to marry me and reap the benefits. Honestly, I haven't really connected with anyone since…" he trailed off, not knowing how to end that sentence.

Ginny was quiet for a moment. Then she took her hand and placed it over his, looking straight into his eyes. "That's a real shame," she said quietly, in a serious tone he rarely heard her use. "Because if they got to know you, they'd have seen just how, well, caring and smart and selfless you are, Harry. You deserve a lot," she laughed weakly and shook her head. "Probably more than any woman can offer."

Harry swallowed and looked at her. "That's not true," he responded, trying to insert as much meaning as he could into that one sentence because he couldn't trust himself to say any more than that. What he meant, of course, was, "That's not true because I deserve _you_ and I'll be yours if you'd take me." But that was kind of a clunker of a sentence and he couldn't possibly get through it.

Ginny looked into his eyes for a moment and parted her lips as if she was about to say something. Then she quickly averted her gaze, and Harry was left with the distinct feeling that for a moment there, she had understood completely.

**please review and tell me what you think! there's more to come -- i'll update as soon as i possibly can. bye bye!**


	7. Chapter 7

**hello my patient readers! i'm back after a splendid trip to virginia and washington d.c.! and of course, b/c i'm your favorite author in the world (hah!), i'm duly updating. as an aside -- HOW AMAZING WAS BOOK SEVEN?! i bet you all read it the night of, just like me. we are dorks, haha. i'm still reeling from delirious joy.**

**anyway, without much further ado, thank you plenty to: Literati and naley forever, CrazyLittleThingCalledLove, Moshi-man, Sabriel Anna, Vanilla Bean 75, sweetblonde15, Shannonn14, Lily-Sun, hargin1, mischa-bee, reject45, Priestess kohana, Andrew, and DarkyDearest. **

** Elmire: wasn't the book amazing? I can't believe it doesn't come out in french for three months; that is so tragic. I'm thinking that I might want to pick them up when they do come out though... just to brush up on my very rudimentary french, haha. oh! you know what i just remembered? back in the day (when we had french exchange students), we'd correspond with them over email. we'd write in english and they'd write in french, so basically we were practicing reading in another language. wouldn't it be neat to do that? anyway, hope you like this chapter!**

** JamieBell: OHMYGOODNESS. You updated your fic?! I just returned from my trip and I am going to go read it RIGHT now because I simply cannot delay! Didn't you love DH? It literally made me sigh when I got to the end -- a half satisfied, half "Oh crap, it's over" kind of sigh. I'm so happy. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter as well! **

**enjoy!  
**

_Dear Harry,_

_Thanks for leading me to that Muggle place yesterday. The hot chocolate was amazing. Just amazing. And the company wasn't too bad either, I guess, haha. In any event, I know you were paying because you felt the need to repay me for the speech and all, which is absolute rubbish. It was hardly any work at all. So I'm thinking that I might want to pay you back – are you free tomorrow for lunch?_

_There's this new bistro right by where I work – it's rather charming and from what I've heard, they serve a mean roast beef sandwich. Anyway, I did an advert for them and the owner sent me a gift certificate for twenty galleons, which is clearly more than I can spend myself. If you're at all interested in a free meal (come on, Harry Potter. Aren't you a man?), send me an owl._

_-Gin _

Harry sighed happily as he read Ginny's note over breakfast. _A bloke could get used to this_, he thought wistfully. Being friends with a beautiful, clever, witty witch who wrote you notes, invited you to lunch and made you cookies. Blimey, he was a lucky fool.

Unable to contain his glee, he hopped off of his chair and padded over to the living room in his bare feet, still clad in flannel pajama pants and a plain t-shirt. He inspected his music system carefully, then took out his wand and flicked it at random. Immediately, a high-energy pop song with a painfully obnoxious chorus blasted on, and for once, Harry didn't feel as though he were about to bleed from his ears. He felt as though he wanted to dance.

_So with a swish of a wand, if ya know what I mean – _

Though he felt a little silly, Harry humored himself and began hopping the room, tossing his head wildly.

_Ba ba bum…_

He was never really sure of how to dance, but he supposed that jumping around the room like a madman was fun enough. He was so lost in the music that he didn't hear the crackle of someone flooing in through his fireplace.

"_Ahem._"

Harry immediately turned off the music and turned to face a very amused Hermione.

"Should I come back later?" she asked, barely able to contain her laughter. "Or should I go back and grab Ron? You were giving me quite a show there, Harry. You can carry on, if you'd like."

"Shut up," Harry said, turning beet-red. Merlin, this was embarrassing. "You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"

Hermione just gave him a smug smile. "We'll see about that. I might consider telling my fiancé." She couldn't help covering her mouth with one hand and giggling slightly when she said that word. Harry noted with some interest that her cheeks became unusually pink and her eyes suddenly lit up. "Isn't that strange? Ron's my _fiancé_. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him. I keep thinking it's all just some wonderful dream."

Harry snorted as he marched over to the kitchen (trying to maintain whatever shred of dignity he had left) and levitated a carton of orange juice and a tall glass over. He poured it out and handed it to Hermione. "You consider being shackled to Ron a _wonderful dream_?" he chortled, shaking his head. "Wait until he hears that one."

"Don't even bother telling him," she rolled her eyes, taking the glass from him. "He's heard much worse. And besides, he's said even more saccharine things to me. Did you know," she divulged with a twinkle in her eye. "That sometimes he calls me his little pumpkin pastry?"

Harry tried not to look revolted, but it was rather difficult when his best friends were being so… well, ridiculously sappy. It wasn't his fault they were so disgusting when they were around each other. He could barely keep himself from throwing up his breakfast.

Thankfully, Hermione didn't seem to notice his rather disgusted expression, as she was glancing around the kitchen. "So I've come to ask you if you've started on your wedding toast, of course. As best man, you do have to give one."

Harry stared at her. "And I need it seven months in advance?"

Hermione sighed and wrung her hands together guiltily. "Right," she mumbled. "I know I'm being insane but it's just all building up and I've so much to do… Merlin, I have twenty pages of to-do lists at home. Can you believe that, Harry?"

Actually, considering that this was Hermione, Harry could definitely believe that. But of course, he didn't want to face her wrath, and so he got by with an impassive glance and a, "Huh. That is quite a bit, eh?"

"Anyways," she said, rounding on him with a sadistic glint in her eye that could _not_ mean good things. It either meant severe torture or really persistent pestering. And Harry had a good idea of what she'd pester him about. It was not a pleasant thought. "What was the dancing I saw earlier, eh? What's got you so worked up and bubbly?"

"Err…" Well, of course, there was only one explanation floating about in Harry's mind. It was the only thing floating around in his head nowadays, come to think of it. Recently he hadn't thought of much else, really – just Ginny and her brilliant smile, her quick wit and how much he loved observing the curb of her back as she walked in front of him. Or how much he loved walking arm in arm with her down the street. Or how he loved receiving owls from her. It seemed as though everything he held dear could be linked back to Ginny in some way. "Well…" he stalled. "You know. Life's just been, err, good lately."

Hermione tsked and sat down at the kitchen table. And picked up the note that Ginny had written, raising an eyebrow smugly. _Bollocks_, Harry thought miserably as she quickly took it in. _I'll never live this one down._ "So," she began, grinning widely. She knew she had him. "I don't suppose your recent display of… impressive dancing skills had anything to do with one Miss Ginevra Weasley, does it?"

Harry shook his head. "I've absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he stated blandly. "You're clearly a mad woman, which explains why you're also in love with Ron."

Hermione snorted and smacked him on the arm. "Oh shut up about me and Ron," she chastised. "You're just jealous because he doesn't pay as much attention to you anymore."

"Yes, I am _so_ upset that I'm not his pumpkin pastry anymore. Damn you, Hermione. You've taken my best mate _and_ his preferred nickname for me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not even going to think about that. If it's true," she shuddered. "Then Ron has _quite_ a bit of explaining to do." Her expression turned serious. "But really, Harry. I'm glad you're talking to Ginny again. What happened, Harry? I never really quite understood why you stopped talking to each other, and I suppose I don't understand how you just started again either. It seems so strange."

Harry stopped for a moment to contemplate. Why _had_ he stopped speaking to Ginny? It all seemed a little ridiculous now that he thought of it – but back then everything had just seemed so awkward. He had been paralyzed by the sight of her (still was, a little). After he returned from the war, he was afraid to speak to her because he thought she might be angry with him for breaking up with her. He wasn't stupid enough to ask for her back, he had reasoned. She deserved better than that.

Ginny had tried to talk to him, but he just… well, he just couldn't. He always wanted to say something brilliant to her, to give a long impassioned speech, to beg and ask for her forgiveness. But since he couldn't think of anything like that, he just said nothing. Small talk seemed inadequate. It wouldn't have been enough for her.

And after a while, she had given up on trying to talk to him. And that was it. Stupid, and probably all his fault, but really. At the time it had seemed like there was no other option.

Harry shrugged as Hermione cleared her throat, waiting for an answer. "I dunno," he muttered, sitting down across from her and scratching the back of his head. "I really dunno. I just know that I want to do everything I can to _keep_ talking to her."

Hermione rose and patted him on the head, rather like she would a dog. Actually, rather like she would to Ron. Harry grinned at that. Hermione _did_ treat Ron like a pet sometimes, now that he thought of it. She used basic commands, such as: "Sit _down_, Ron!", "Come here, Ron," and "_Stay_, Ron" to control him. And most of the time, Ron obeyed. He was, after all, a good pet.

"Well, I'm going to go," she said fondly, passing him Ginny's note. "But if you're going to keep her, I think it's best you respond to her lunch invitation." She winked. "It sounds an awful lot like a date, if you ask me."

And with that, she stepped into his fireplace, yelled out, "Weasley household!" and was gone, leaving Harry with Ginny's note in front of him and a desire to express his undying love to her on paper. Which, obviously, was a desire that needed to be squashed as soon as possible.

It simply wouldn't do to scare the girl away with his stalker-ish tendencies, after all. He had to _gradually_ introduce the fact that he fancied her like he fancied a glass of lemonade after being in the desert for ten days. And step one of gradual introduction was friendship. Yes. She had invited him to lunch as a friend, and it was only natural to respond with an eager "YES!" as a friend.

_Dear Ginny, _(_she_ used "dear," so Harry thought it was probably safe to start using it himself. Maybe she'd read it and get a tiny bit of a hint. The thought thrilled him as he continued.)

_Have you ever seen me turn down a free meal? _NO! _Why, you ask? Because I am always hungry. So if you ever need someone to eat lunch with, remember that. I am always hungry and willing to eat. Especially with you. I mean, if you need me to keep you company. Or share a salad with you. Or a steak. I like both. But if we share, I won't eat everything, so you don't have to worry about that. And if you don't want to share, that'd be okay too. We could always get separate entrees. _

_So lunch would be great. _

_-Harry_

He read over the letter, frowning a little. Did it seem too eager? Well, he _did_ want to say, "Yes, I'll eat lunch with you." And it was always good to hint at future lunches to come. Yeah, the letter was alright.

He added a postscript, just because.

_PS- I hate that you get free meals to places. Bloody job perks. I'm jealous._

He tied it to Hedwig's leg (who hooted approvingly), and sent it off to Ginny. "Get it to her, will you?" And with that, Harry got dressed and apparated to work for another day of Auror training. For some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to be exasperated with any of the students today.

Garrett and June spent the whole lesson peeking at each other and passing notes instead paying attention. Normally, Harry would've been exasperated. He would've taken their notes from them, waved them in front of the class and said, "We are _not_ fourteen year olds, people! Save the puppy love for later!"

But today he couldn't. When he asked Garrett a simple question about blocking charms and the boy merely turned to him with a goofy, blank grin, he could only chuckle and shake his head.

"Sorry, Mr. Potter," Garrett said, though he didn't look too apologetic. He merely looked… overjoyed. Permanently overjoyed. "I suppose I'm just a little distracted." His eyes flickered over to June, who ducked her head and blushed.

"That's quite alright," Harry found himself saying genially. "We all have our days. Now does anyone else know the answer?"

…Basically, Harry was in an alarmingly good mood all day. After all, he and Ginny were on good terms. Great terms, even! This was no small feat. In fact, he briefly considered making, "Getting to know Ginny again," the number one item on his list of, "Things I've Accomplished." But then he figured that everyone else might disagree with him and rank the whole Voldemort thing as number one. Whatever. Being friends with Ginny still came in at a _very close_ number two.

When Harry got home that evening, he was _thrilled_ to see a neat pile of mail on the kitchen table. Mostly because, of course, he hoped (not so secretly) that one of the letters came from Ginny. He flipped through the mail, reading the other two notes first. He'd save Ginny's for last, he thought as a stupid grin formed on his face. He was glad no one was there to see it – he just seemed to smile whenever he thought of her/ talked to her/ talked _about_ her, etcetera.

_Harry- _

_I know I didn't emphasize it enough this morning, but you really_ must_ work on your best man speech. I don't mean to nag, but it's practically the only responsibility we've given you, and I'd just like some assurance that you're taking it seriously. Of course I don't want to see a draft or anything like that – that'd simply be silly. It has to be a surprise for it to be touching, after all. However, I wouldn't say no to a detailed outline of some sort. –Hermione_

Harry snorted and read to the end, where Ron had scrawled a note in his own messy script.

_Mate- _

_Don't worry about it. She's bonkers. I hear you've been mailing my little sister though. What's going on there, eh? –Ron _

Harry tossed the letter aside. He didn't really think it warranted a response – after all, there was _no_ way he was going to present Hermione with a detailed outline of his speech as best man. She'd just have to deal without it.

The next letter came on hot pink parchment that smelled strongly of perfume. Harry frowned as he opened it – who in the world would send him this? As he unfolded it, he was hit in the face with a burst of glitter dust. Coughing and in a rather sour mood, he read the loopy, sparkling script inside.

_My Dearest Harry, _

He gagged.

_It's me, Lavender of course! I haven't heard from you, and it worried me so, so much. I might be presumptuous in saying this, but… Harry, did you feel the connection we made at that one gala? Because I did. I must admit I felt a kind of warm fluttering feeling, as if someone had released a swarm of happiness butterflies in my chest and allowed them to roam freely in my life, spreading good cheer and rainbows wherever they went. Did you feel that way too? If so, let's meet again and let destiny have its way with us. _

_Hopefully awaiting your response, _

_Miss Lavender Brown_

_What in the world_? Harry thought as he read the letter. The girl was _insane_. She sounded like a Care Bear on drugs, to be quite honest. A swarm of happiness butterflies and rainbows? What was she _talking_ about? She didn't need a date – she needed to be committed to St. Mungo's right away. Harry pushed her letter aside and wrinkled his nose. Merlin, he could smell the perfume from here, and it was starting to obstruct his airflow. He wondered if he was allergic to it. he wouldn't be surprised – the whole letter seemed rather toxic.

Merlin, he couldn't wait to tell Ginny about this tomorrow. He'd bring the letter to show her, come to think of it. At the thought of Ginny, he couldn't help but grin a little.

He picked up the last letter, which was now sitting on the table, simply folded into quarters and addressed, _To Harry_.

_Dear Harry,_

_You whiny brat – you're jealous of _me_ because I get free meals?! Look at yourself, Mr. I'm So Important, I'm Invited To Every Major Event in The Wizarding World. You've met the Minister of Magic, every pro Quidditch player out there, and most importantly, Celestina Warbeck! I know some girls who would literally gouge their own eyes out to meet her. So don't tell me that you're jealous of me – because I just don't buy it. There are much better perks to be had by single-handedly saving the wizarding world. _

_Speaking of being the savior of the wizarding world and all – have you seen the latest tabloids? Apparently you have a secret love child with a veela in France or something. Bravo, Harry. A full-blood veela? Those are hard to win over. See you tomorrow, you whiny, ungrateful prat. _

_-Gin _

Harry shook his head. That's exactly how a letter was supposed to be – witty and funny, and not sappy and deranged like Lavender's. He couldn't help it; he grabbed Ginny's letter and read it over once more, snorting at her lighthearted insults.

**read, review and make the author happy, please. **

_Merlin_ he loved that girl.


	8. Chapter 8

**Ahah! I'm back to fairly regular updates (hopefully). At least if I finish my next chapter soon... which I promise, absolutely promise to have up by Friday. **

**Anyways, many hugs, kisses and flying cupcakes to: Sabriel Anna, CrazyLittleThingCalledLove, Priestess Kohana, Leigh MacD, sweetblonde15, mischa-bee, Lily-Sun and Katharine B. **

**iamchlorine: goodness... i think we _all_ decided to go hardcore and wait in line for ridiculous hours, haha. loved that book, so sad it's over. however, i didn't dress up (because i'm lame, or not nearly Queen of Dorkdom yet). did you? if so, i commend you greatly. **

** elmire: ah, i'm delighted you liked this chapter, as always. yeah, i thought it fit in with DH pretty well too, aside from a couple details. it worked out pretty well. yes, i'm thinking that i should start from book 1 in french, haha, which should be interesting. i've been listening to "Learn to Speak French!" podcasts because i realized that i haven't taken a single class for nearly two years. i'll definitely check out your stories when i get the chance though -- although i'll probably end up leaving a review in english. if you'd like to email correspond sometime (if you're bored), just shoot me an email message to **

** okay dears, here's the chapter. read and enjoy, pleases.  
**

Chapter 8

"_Merlin_," Ginny laughed as he pushed Lavender's letter towards her from across the table. They were sitting at the bistro Ginny had taken him to, sharing a rather delightful meal of avocado and roast beef sandwiches, soup and because Ginny insisted on picking up a healthy option, a salad with extra grape tomatoes ("I _love_ those," Ginny had remarked, and Harry had stored it away in his mental collection of things he wanted to remember about Ginny Weasley. Which was basically everything.) "_Happiness _butterflies? Are you _serious_, Harry? Goodness gracious, who does she think she is?"

Harry chortled as he took another bite of his sandwich, reveling in the fact that he was, once again, having a wildly entertaining conversation with Ginny. He couldn't quite believe his luck. "I have no idea," he responded, shaking his head. "I reckon she thinks that she's my future girlfriend or something."

Ginny read over the letter once more, and Harry surreptitiously watched as her lips formed the letters silently. Merlin, she was pretty. He took another bite out of his sandwich, which was delicious. _And_ she fed him. How could he _not_ love her?

"You should definitely respond to her," she decided. "A nice and polite rejection. You owe at least that much to the poor delusional girl."

Harry grinned. "What?" he asked innocently. "You mean I shouldn't take her up on her offer?"

"Oh, Merlin's knickers, Harry," Ginny groaned, smacking him on the shoulder. Harry tried hard not to blush. Physical contact with Ginny (even of the violent sort) made him want to… well, profess his love to her. Or snog her. Or both, probably. "If I ever catch you falling for that _type _of girl," she wrinkled her nose. "Don't think I won't hex you into a vegetative state. It'd be for your own good, really."

Harry felt hope bubble up somewhere inside of him. So maybe Ginny really _did_ care. After all, she said she would hex him if he ever dated a Lavender – "That galleon-digging slag," she muttered as she focused once more on her meal – so that had to mean that she at least cared about him a little. Even if it was just as a friend.

"So," he asked nonchalantly, taking care not to sound too eager or interested. "What kind of a girl do you reckon I should date? I need some pointers, you know. I'm not so skilled in this area."

He tried to ignore the fact that cheeks were warming up as he waited for Ginny to answer. He hoped she wouldn't notice his sudden flush.

Ginny didn't answer right away – nor did she look at him. Instead, she picked at her salad contemplatively, spearing a grape tomato and popping it into her mouth. As she chewed slowly, she gazed out the restaurant window, eyes flickering over the people chatting idly over the people chatting idly over their lunches. "Like I said before," she said lightly, still looking out the window. "You deserve a lot, Harry, so I don't really know what to say to you." She laughed a little. "Honestly, I don't think I'll ever fully approve of any girl you bring home. Just make sure she's really, really spectacular Harry. Because I _won't_ allow you to settle for less."

Harry wondered if she realized that she _was_ the spectacular girl he deserved. Better yet, she was the spectacular girl he _didn't_ deserve. She was a little too good for him, a little too clever, a little too witty, a little too pretty, really. He sighed a little as he watched her rest her chin on the palm of her hand, staring out the window. The light made her skin glow and her eyes shine, and Harry realized that he was holding his breath. He let it out. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that," he mumbled.

Ginny whipped around to look at him. "Why?" she laughed, leaning forward. "Do you have someone in mind?"

_You. _Harry thought fervently, wishing he could just bring himself to say that one word. _I've had you in mind since my sixth year at Hogwarts. And I don't think I'll ever change my mind about that_.

Instead, he blushed, looked down at his hands and stalled. "Er…" he mumbled, after a long pause. "No one in particular…"

Ginny slapped the table and pointed at him accusingly, a wide grin on her face. "_Ahah!_" she cried out, startling several of the other diners. "You hesitated there, Harry, which means that you're _obviously_ lying. Harry Potter's got a secret crush, eh?" she shook her head admiringly. "Who would've thought? Now 'fess up, dear, before I have to hex it out of you. Who's the mystery woman?"

Harry swallowed. It couldn't do – it simply couldn't do to just _tell_ her. That would be… well, a stupid idea, because obviously, she didn't feel the same way anymore. And it had been five _bloody_ years. It would be madness to think that she still liked him. And it would be practically _suicidal_ to admit that he was in love with her and shatter the nice way their friendship had been going along.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

"Can't tell you," he said.

"_Oh_," Ginny's eyebrows rose. "So there _is_ someone. Come on now, Harry. You can't leave a girl hanging. We're friends now, aren't we? You know I'd tell you the same."

Harry gulped. This… was not a good situation. In fact, it was a very, very bad situation. Especially because Ginny was now giving him that _look_. Not the Hermione and Ron look, but a very specific Ginny look that involved a raised eyebrow and a casually brandished fork. It was the kind of look that said, "I may be adorable and lovely, but if you dare disobey me, I will turn your intestines into spaghetti." Harry was still undecided on whether or not he liked this look. On one hand – it was downright scary. On the other – at least Ginny was _giving_ him looks. They certainly weren't lustful, "Take me, I'm yours!" looks, but hey. Beggars can't be choosers.

"Err…" he thought quickly. "How about we make a deal? I'll tell you who I fancy if I ever get her to say that she likes me too. I reckon you can give me ideas on how to woo her, and if your plans work then we both win, right?"

He smiled winningly, hoping that she wouldn't see through his transparent plan.

Ginny leaned forward and tapped her chin thoughtfully. A wavy strand of hair fell into her eyes. Harry resisted the temptation to reach over and tuck it behind her ear. Snapping back up, she grinned at him and held out a hand. "Fair enough!" she chirped, shaking his hand vigorously. "There's no way this girl can resist your charm once _I'm_ through with you. Though," she added. "I'm really no good at this dating advice thing, Harry. You might want to find someone else."

Harry shook his head. "No, you'd be great for the job, Gin," he insisted, trying very hard not to blush. It took more concentration than Occlumency, in his opinion. "The girl I fancy is… err… well she shares some of your traits," he blundered. "And therefore, I think that you would be the perfect person. To teach me how to get her, that is."

Ginny squinted at him, surprised. "Like me?" she exclaimed, practically hopping up from her seat. "And I thought that I was _special_," she fake-pouted as she winked at him cheekily. Picking up her cup of tea, she sipped it, looking coyly at him over the edge. Harry gulped again. At this rate, he wasn't going to have any saliva left. "So," she said. "Now you _have_ to tell me about her. I'm fascinated."

"Well, err…"

This could not go well. This could not go well. This could not go well. What could he possibly say? Harry panicked inwardly as he smiled weakly on the outside, trying to adopt a cheery "I'm in love!" façade.

"She's… err, really pretty. And clever. And quite good at the Bat Bogey Hex," he listed off, blushing madly as Ginny tapped her fingernails against the tabletop, listening in rapt attention. "She err… she's very sarcastic. Creative. Comes from a big family. Really, really special girl," he ended lamely.

"Hair color?" Ginny inquired.

"Redhead," Harry responded without thinking, then blushed even deeper.

"You seem to have a thing for those, don't you?" Ginny asked innocently, before breaking out into a devious grin.

Harry died a little inside.

Ginny noticed his miserable look and misinterpreted it. "Sorry, sorry!" she cried out, blushing. "I didn't mean – I mean, I _know_ we're over. Merlin, that was awkward. I'm sorry, I just meant… I mean, well she _does_ sound an awful lot like me, doesn't she?" she laughed weakly. "Except for the 'really pretty and clever' bit. That must be her advantage."

"Hardly," Harry muttered, barely able to look at her. They sat in an awkward silence for a couple moments, Harry staring at the ceiling as Ginny tapped at the tabletop frantically. She twirled a piece of hair between her fingers and sighed loudly. Harry glanced around the restaurant, wondering what he could possibly say. And at that moment, he noticed an unfamiliar wizard making his way towards them.

"Sorry, sorry," the bloke said, grinning sheepishly as he wove through chairs and tables. "Sorry, coming through! Oy! Gin!"

Ginny looked up, flustered as Harry stiffened. Who _was_ this bloke? And since when was anyone allowed to call Ginny "Gin"?! The wizard ruffled his sandy brown hair and managed to squeeze his way to their table, out of breath and grinning down at Ginny.

"Owen!" Ginny exclaimed, hopping out of her seat to throw her arms around the bloke as Harry sat stiffly in his seat, burning with a sudden, intense loathing for this new fellow. Owen leaned down and pecked Ginny on the cheek, solidifying his new role as Harry Potter's Biggest Enemy.

Ginny turned around and pointed at Harry. "Owen, this is _the_ Harry Potter," she introduced with a smirk. "And Harry, this is Owen. Owen's a good friend of mine."

"Really," Harry gritted through his teeth. "How did you two meet?"

Owen laughed, seemingly oblivious to his impending death as he looped an arm around Ginny's waist. "Well, Ginny did an advertisement for my company a couple years back, and we spent a lot of time working with each other on that," he explained as Ginny giggled. For the first time, Harry was distinctly annoyed by the sound of Ginny's giggle. "So we got to know each other, and," he trailed off, waving his hand. "Here we are."

"Fascinating," Harry muttered. "Absolutely fascinating."

"Yes," Ginny continued, seemingly oblivious to Harry's discomfort. "We actually get along quite well, despite the fact that Owen is a self serving little prat." She laughed deviously as Owen reached over to swat her lightly over the head. Harry's expression soured. He would never hit Ginny, joking or otherwise, he thought. This Owen character was clearly bad news, with his stiffly pressed robe and artfully mussed hair. He probably killed bunnies and practiced the Dark Arts in his spare time. Harry made a mental note to voice his concerns to Ginny later.

"Don't listen to her," Owen said, grinning at Harry as Ginny let out a scandalized growl. He pulled a chair from a nearby empty table and sat down with them. Harry frowned at this, while Ginny simply sat back down again and plopped another tomato into her mouth. "She just calls me a brat because I happen to own a major media outlet," he chuckled, setting his dragon hide suitcase on the floor beside him. Harry nodded stiffly.

Ginny leaned towards Harry, lightening his mood somewhat. She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and placed her fingers on Harry's arm. He tried not to swallow too obviously. "Owen's family owns Witch Weekly," she said in a stage whisper, eyes flashing playfully towards Owen. "Major media outlet, my arse. That's just tabloid rubbish."

Owen didn't seem to take offense at this. Instead, he merely laughed and called over the waitress to bring him a glass of lemonade. Harry narrowed his eyes and looked at his new competition. It was already hard enough coming up with a plan to win Ginny back after all these years -- especially when he became a blithering idiot every time he was within ten feet of her. It didn't seem fair that he'd have to deal with a charming, handsome, incredibly wealthy wizard as well. He cursed under his breath. How could he have been so stupid? Of _course_ attractive blokes would go after Ginny. Of _course_ she'd be sought after. She was, after all (in his opinion at least), the smartest, prettiest witch in all of England. And he was lucky that she even talked to him.

Ginny and Owen continued to chat on about this and that in the wizarding world, while Harry sat by and seethed.

"I mean," Ginny laughed, tapping her spoon against the table. "Can you _believe_ the new Gladwear's campaign? It's _so_ tacky. It feels like a throwback to under-budgeted Muggle advertising from the 80s." She shook her head as Owen nodded sympathetically. "It's absolutely horrendous. I can barely look at it without getting a headache."

Harry could really take it no longer. Ginny was clearly more attached to this wizard with his fancy Italian footwear and perfect hair. He was really a prize idiot for thinking that he ever had a chance. Dejectedly, he stood up, wrapping his heavy robe around his shoulders and looping his scarf around his neck. "Err, I've got to go," he said awkwardly as Ginny opened her mouth to protest. "I just realized I've still got a few quizzes to grade before the students get back, anyway."

"Oh," said Owen interestedly. "You're a teacher?"

"Harry's a professor at the local Auror Academy," Ginny responded for him as she stood to wrap her arms around Harry and peck him lightly on the cheek. Harry stood stiffly, uncertain of what to do. He felt momentarily elated as her lips grazed his skin, but then his gaze fell once more on Owen and he felt himself deflate again. It simply wasn't fair. The first kiss (albeit, a kiss on the cheek) was supposed to be monumental, life changing. And here was this bloody _prat_, sitting here and ruining the moment for Harry. "Well, goodbye then, Harry. I'll see you soon, right?" Ginny looked up at him, brown eyes bright and hopeful.

Harry, however, avoided her gaze. "Right," he mumbled. "The robe fitting's on Sunday, isn't it? I suppose I'll see you then." Ginny drew back with a wounded expression on her face. She was clearly confused by Harry's sudden frostiness, but she didn't say anything. Instead she merely bit her lip and nodded her head.

"Right," she murmured softly, standing in front of him and awkwardly wringing her hands. "Right. I'll see you then."

Harry apparated back to work, leaving Ginny with that stupid prat Owen. Whoever he was, he was going to die. A rather painful death, if Harry had his way.

This was _not_ going the way he planned. And he really had absolutely no idea what to do next.

**I miss your comments and reviews, dearies. Please bring em back so I can be inspired to write the next chapter (eek, it's painfully nonexistent right now). Love, Lynn!**

Chapter 9


	9. Chapter 9

**Please don't send me hate mail because the Weasley twins are both in this fic -- remember, I started it **_before_** I read DH, and I can't very well change those little discrepencies now, so you'll just have to deal with it. But aside from that, I tried to make this chapter a little longer than usual. I hope you enjoy (and appreciate!)**

**A million thanks to: iamchlorine, velcroSUNSHINE, kaypgirl, angel003, milky way bar, evil toad, mischa-bee, The1AndOnly-BIGHEAD, reject45, sweetblonde15, Lily-Sun,** **and asdfjkl;  
**

**Sabriel Anna: yay! congrats, 100th reviewer! i'm so flattered that this story is bringing in so many reviews; i honestly don't think it deserves it, but goodness! i'm glad people are enjoying it. **

**Eye on the Horizon: oh my gosh, you read through 8 chapters in one go?! i'm so impressed! please stick with this story -- i'm so excited when i find reviewers who actually love the story. that's what keeps me going. **

**CaliciaHGluv: thank for picking up this story! your idea is adorable - i laughed when i read it, but alas, i don't even know when this is going to end. i'm pretty sure i'm winging it. but a fight scene would be fun. i love fight scenes. i think i'll try to work one into the next chapter. **

**Elmire: I like how you say that your review won't be long, and it's STILL the longest review I ever get. thanks for writing reviews that i look forward to! sorry, i don't have a live journal, but email me whenever you want to. I'm glad you think it's funny - I'm always afraid that my humor will come across as lame or just plain unfunny. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Georgentosser: Oh dear, you caught me. I cut out the chapters from a single word document, and oftentimes I've started on the next chapter before I decide to post the current one -- so I guess I didn't get rid of all of chapter 9. Oh well! Here it is (without a trace of chapter 10, might I add). I'll be sure to update soon, and I hope you enjoy this! **

Chapter 9

"Could anyone tell me why people just _cannot_ tell time?" Hermione seemed on the verge of tears as she paced back in forth in front of Madame Malkin's, her hands waving, hair practically standing on edge. "I mean, I clearly said that we would be doing robe fittings at _nine_ _thirty_. I underlined the time _twice_ in all the owls I sent. I even sent daily reminder owls! Why isn't Ginny here? And Ron, your brothers had better get here soon, or I will _strangle _something."

Ron sat on a bench in front of the shop, clearly miserable, looking for all the world as though he would rather be anywhere but here right now -- in particular, he wanted to be at the Quidditch game that was playing. It wasn't the Cannons, but it was Puddlemere, and Ron was never the kind to pass up a good sporting event. _Especially_ not in favor of picking out some frilly robes. _Yech_. "I'm sure they'll be here soon," he said pleadingly, looking to Harry for help.

"Right," Harry muttered. "I'm sure _Ginevra_ will be here any minute now." Harry was seated next to Ron, trying to flatten the top of his hair (old habits never died, after all) and decidedly _not_ thinking about how any moment now, Ginny would come bounding down the narrow Diagon Alley cobblestones and would make his heart promptly stop. No matter anyway, he thought darkly. She had no idea what she did to him, and besides, she had her precious _Owen_ to run to. Harry muttered a couple choice obscenities that would've made Mrs. Weasley wash his mouth out with soap. Bloody Owen. Bloody love, for that matter.

Basically, he was in quite the sour mood.

Ron raised an eybrow. "_Ginevra, _eh?" he asked, looking rather interested. Even Hermione stopped her angry rant for a moment to turn on Harry. "What happened between you two, mate?"

Harry shook his head stubbornly. "_Nothing_," he muttered, ducking his head and refusing to look at his best friends, who would clearly read the anguish on his face if they could see it. Absolute and utter anguish. He was starting to hate falling in love (especially when it was apparently impossible to fall _out_ of love, even after six years. Yeesh). "_Nothing _happened."

Hermione put her hands on her waist and gave him an imperious look, which meant that she was going to say something, and it was probably going to start with either a condescending, "_Well_," or "_Honestly_, Harry." And he really wasn't in the mood for either. Harry lowered his head and prepared for The Inquisition as Hermione took a breath and opened her mouth to say something, but then --

Ginny came scampering towards them, dressed in Muggle jeans and a loose blue v-neck sweater. Her hair was pulled up messily so that a few tendrils escaped, framing her flushed face as she stopped for breath. True to his prediction, Harry felt his stomach flop and his neck and face suddenly heat up. Damn it. Clearly, he was still incapable of controlling his physiological reactions whenever Ginny was around. She smiled brilliantly and shot Hermione an apologetic look. "Oh Herm, Ron... I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly. "I wanted to bring some treats along for everyone and the brownies took longer to bake than I thought they would."

She held out a bag to Hermione. "Will you forgive me?"

Even Hermione was not impervious to the charms of freshly baked goods, so she took the brownies with a rather forgiving smile. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "I would never be mad at you."

Ron snorted and shot Harry a look. "Can I have a brownie, please?"

Hermione turned around and gave him a silencing _look_. Harry recalled with interest that she had also used that look during Christmas dinner, when Ron had started eating before the rest of the family, causing Mrs. Weasley to scold him with a, "Ronald! How _could_ you start eating before Great-aunt Marge? That is so rude!" That admonition had done little to shame Ron, but one very, very frosty Look from Hermione had stopped him right in his tracks. It really was hilarious how utterly terrified Ron was of Hermione. Almost cute, really.

"We'll eat them after your brothers get here," Hermione sniffed. "Don't be such a glutton, Ron."

She turned back to Ginny, exclaiming once again at her apparent generosity and superb baking skills (even though she hadn't yet tasted a single brownie). Harry zoned out when he realized that they were succumbing to typical "girl talk" -- gushing about the wedding, latest robe fashions and a bit of guilty gossip about wizarding celebrities. He really didn't want to hear a conversation about Shellanda Sherwood's new single, really.

He turned back to Ron, who was still looking at the bag of brownies with a rather tortured expression on his face.

"I can't believe you're marrying her," he whispered, keeping an eye on Hermione to make sure she didn't hear.

Ron turned back to him and shook his head, chuckling softly. "I know, right? I'm the luckiest bloke in the world."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Despite the fact that you two are always bickering?"

"_Especially_ because we're always bickering," Ron corrected, leaving Harry to wonder when in the world his best mate had gotten so wise.

As soon as the rest of the Weasley siblings had arrived, Hermione herded them all inside, shooing them into the shop as though they were sheep. Madame Malkin had apparently separated the dressing room into two areas -- male and female -- with a large mirrored room in the middle. Hermione quickly grabbed Ginny, Luna Lovegood (who had been sitting on the dressing room floor for two hours -- she had showed up even before Hermione), her cousin Caroline (who had been gaping this whole time, the poor Muggle girl), Hannah Abbott (they were healers at St. Mungo's together) and of course, her mum.

Ron on the other hand gestured lazily for Harry, Neville and the Weasley twins to follow him. They followed him into the fitting rooms to find simple navy blue dress robes arranged before them. "The wedding colors are blue and silver," Ron explained. "So the girls will be in silver robes, I reckon. They're going to be cut slightly like Muggle dresses though, just so Herm's family doesn't feel too awkward."

"Very nice," Harry said, picking up his robe and slinging it over his shoulder. "Looks a lot more respectable than those frilly robes you wore to the Yule Ball, eh?"

Neville sniggered.

Ron smoothed his robe, which was black with silver trimmings. "You can laugh all you want, mate," he said agreeably. "But I've come a long way from the Yule Ball. This time, I got to pick out my robes myself," he wrinkled his nose, remembering the secondhand robes his mum had purchased for him. "_And_ I've got the girl."

He puffed himself up, looking rather a bit too smug. After all, Ron was well aware that no one else in the room right now had _the girl_. Neville and Luna were clearly meant for each other - but they were both too bashful to be anything other than _friends_. George and Fred were basically married to their business -- they hardly had time to eat sometimes. The last time they had gone out on dates, it had ended up disastrously. Apparently, some girls don't like to be turned into canaries while they're eating dessert.

"Bloody girls haven't got a sense of humor," George had muttered darkly.

And Harry... well Harry was at the excruciating point in his life where he knew exactly who he wanted (had know for _years_, actually), but had no idea how to get her. His love life was a sad, bleak desert, really. Merlin, he was pathetic.

"Well," Ron said, pointing at the curtained off dressing rooms. "Go on! Put them on."

Harry slid into his own dressing room and tried on the dress robes. Well... they didn't look half-bad. But _Owen_ probably looked twenty times more dashing in a set of dress robes. He sighed, slumping against the wall and wondering where the hell the brownies were. He could certainly use one right now.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the shop, the females were having an intimate conversation of their own.

"I mean," Ginny said, sliding the silver sheath dress over her head. "I just don't _understand _it. One moment, we were having a perfectly good lunch, and the next -- _poof_! He's gone and gotten all surly and anguished again. I don't know what I did wrong."

Hermione sighed and straightened out her long white robe. It was lovely -- a simple silk gown that fell to her ankles and hugged her body. She turned around in the mirror and smiled. For once she couldn't really complain. "Oh, I don't know, Gin. Men are strange like that."

Hannah emerged from her stall and snorted, hands on her hips. "You can say that again," she retorted, looking at herself in the mirror, her normally sweet expression marred by an angry scowl.

Ginny clucked. Hannah was rarely an angry girl, but one thing could get her boiling mad in a matter of seconds. Or rather, one _person_. "Problems with Ernie again?" she asked sympathetically. "What'd that prat do this time?"

"Said he was scared of commitment," Hannah responded, giving them an ironic smile. "So now we're on a break. Merlin," she muttered, spewing out the phrase that witches _everywhere_ used when they were together. "I hate wizards."

Caroline, Hermione's cousin, had been sitting in the corner watching the other women with an expression of fear and intimidation. However, as soon as Hannah declared her hatred for the wizards of the world, she sprung up, a bright grin on her face. "Goodness!" she said. "I was afraid that we wouldn't have anything in common, what with the magic element and all. But it's nice to see," she gave them a sideways glance. "That some things -- like man-hating -- are still universal."

Hermione and Ginny laughed together, and Ginny noted how easily Hermione had slid into the world of female companionship. It had been hard for her at first -- Hermione had confided to her that other girls had never really liked her, and after spending seven years as best friends with two boys, well, she was a little afraid of female interaction. But she and Ginny had thankfully taken to each other enthusiastically, and Ginny was thrilled to be getting a new sister. After all, _she_ had grown up with a brood of boys -- she needed some good gossip and support once in a while too. And though she didn't exactly dislike Fleur, she had a feeling that Hermione would _definitely_ be her favorite sister-in-law.

Luna stepped out of her stall barefoot. Originally, Hermione had wanted all the bridesmaids to wear the same dress, but Luna had adamantly refused, stating that the shape of the dress clashed horrendously with her new iridescent fish scale earrings. Hermione had conceded, allowing her to wear a silver dress with an uneven hem and swaths of maroon and deep purple silk peeking out from underneath. "Well," she had reasoned. "What else could I do? At least she didn't decide to dress up as a giant turnip."

"I rather like wizards, actually," Luna argued in her light, melodic voice. She turned in the mirror, tied her hair up in a knot on top of her head and smiled serenely. "I've found them to be most delightful companions."

"That," Hermione mock-whispered. "Is because Luna's in _love_. How _is_ Neville doing, anyway?"

"He's wonderful," Luna responded, seemingly oblivious to their giggles. "The beedie bird's nest charm I made him works wonders. He hasn't sustained a single injury this year -- and you know how dangerous teaching Herbology can be."

Ginny giggled, though she felt the strange emptiness cloy at her chest. But she brushed it aside. That was silly, after all. She was a strong, young independent witch! So what if she didn't have a wizard to come home to? There were plenty of blokes who wanted to go out with her -- she was picky, that was all. Why just the other day, that fellow Jonas from accounting had asked her if she wanted to go see a play sometime. She had to decline, of course. The poor bloke suggested "Heart's Desire," of all vomit-inducing stage productions. Merlin, he had no taste whatsoever.

Ginny sighed. Now if only she could find a man who would take her to Quidditch games, keep her entertained _and_ treat her like a female. She shuddered to think of Blake, a past boyfriend. He had taken her to Quidditch games, certainly, but he had also treated her as more of a pub buddy than a girlfriend. _That_ hadn't ended well.

"Well, what about _you_, Ginny?" Hannah asked. It was an innocent enough question, but Ginny was convinced that this was going to be her downfall. What was she supposed to say? I just broke up with a cheating wanker and now I might have an inappropriate crush on Mr. I-Saved-The-Wizarding-World Potter? _That_ would go over well.

"Men are all wankers," she deadpanned, sweeping her hair up into a simple ponytail and glancing at her reflection critically. Was it just her, or was her bum getting bigger? "And I'm determined to give them up for life. They're nothing but trouble, really."

Hannah sighed, Caroline tittered, Luna hummed and Hermione gave Ginny a rather knowing look.

"Well," Hermione said. "Is everyone dressed then? Great - they look fabulous. They'll hardly need alterations at all... though Luna dear, I hope you won't mind if we tighten the bodice a bit? You look like you're wearing a sack. Anyway," she clapped her hands in typical, authoritarian Hermione fashion. "Let's go see how the boys are faring, shall we?"

They trekked over to the male side of the dressing room.

Ron stood in his dress robes, fidgeting nervously. "Err, what do you think?" he asked, combing at his hair. His ears turned red. "I mean, I know they'll probably look better on most other blokes, but I don't think they look half bad on me... and blimey, Hermione. You look beautiful." His ears turned considerably redder.

Hermione ignored this and promptly threw herself into his arms, making him go _oof_. "You look fantastic," she exclaimed breathlessly, tilting her head back to peck him on the lips. "Just the kind of dashing fellow I always pictured myself marrying."

For a moment, Harry forgot that he was most-definitely-not-talking-to-Ginny-Weasley-because-she-was-only-going-to-break-his-heart and turned to give her a disgusted look. She pretended to throw up and gave him a wink. His stomach promptly did that weird flippy thing again. He looked away and made a mental note to find some sort of a cure for that -- maybe Hermione could give him something? He snorted to himself. Yes, just go up to her and ask, "Say, Hermione. Do you have some kind of cure for that flippy-nauseous-yet-still-ridiculously-happy feeling I get when I see Ginny? Because I'm starting to think that it might be a serious problem." _That _would supply her with enough ammunition to tease him for ages. He opted _not_ to tell her about his fluttery stomach.

Ginny sidled up to him, and he realized, in his rising panic, that she looked very very pretty at the moment. Normally, she was lovely, of course. She was always lovely. But in her pretty dress with her pretty hair and that pretty smile she was giving him... well, he didn't stand a chance, did he?

"Say," he blurted out before he could self-edit. "What's up with you and that Owen bloke, eh? Seems like you're quite close."

Ginny shrugged her shoulders and he noted with fascination that she had a light spattering of freckles around her collarbone. It was adorable. He wondered if he'd ever be allowed to stare long enough to count them, then dismissed that thought as soon as she began talking. It would do no good, after all, to just stare at her like an idiot. "Oh well you know. Owen's a good guy, and he hasn't gotten on my nerves yet. Mostly he's a good friend to commiserate with about work, since he's obsessed with the same kind of stupid stuff -- consumer appeal and all that. Plus," she gave a mischievous grin. "He's filthy rich and he _always_ pays for my meals. It's quite useful, come to think of it."

Harry laughed along weakly. _Stupid, stupid, stupid Harry_, he berated himself mentally. How could he have let Ginny pay for the last meal? What was wrong with him?! With all of his media appearances, endorsement deals and his bloody inheritance, he could certainly afford a couple sandwiches. And the _hot cocoa_. It hadn't even occurred to him to pay for hers (mostly because he was concentrating on not muddling the whole thing up). This was why he was alone and had nothing to do on Saturday nights, whereas blokes like Owen probably had girls crawling all over them. He was a big, fat, stupid prat. That's why.

"But you know how it goes," Ginny continued. "We bitch at each other like women, so I'm sure at some point we'll be absolute enemies. Anyway, I didn't hang out with him much longer after you left the other day. Had to go back to work and all, you know. Why'd you leave in such a hurry, eh, Harry? Are you always so eager to get away from me?" She asked this in a light, teasing tone, but one look at her confirmed that yes, she really was curious, and yes, Harry had _better_ answer the question.

"I felt awkward," he muttered staring at the ground. He could definitely feel his face redden, which only heightened his embarrassment. "I thought that, err maybe since Owen was there and all, you wouldn't want me... and I'd only get in the way..." He trailed off. Yes, it was official. Harry Potter had just reached Very Pathetic status, and it was all because of one maddeningly charming redhead standing right in front of him.

Ginny seemed momentarily shell shocked. "But," she sputtered. "What do you mean by that? I mean... what? Where did you get that idea?'

Harry shrugged and stared at his feet, aware of the fact that they were all paired off right now -- well, mostly at least. Hermione and Ron were of course, lost in their own premarital bliss (snogging in one of the changing stalls, from the look and sound of it. He winced as he heard Ron moaning. Merlin, this was disgusting). Luna and Neville were seated cross-legged on the ground, engaged in a conversation about imaginary creatures. Neville's hand was resting on Luna's knee, and the both of them were blushing madly.

"I think that wards off colds," Luna said. "Touching people's knees, that is. Do you mind if I touch yours?"

"Well," Neville bumbled, scooting closer. "Well, errr, sure!"

...And across the room, Fred and George had captured the attention of both Caroline and Hannah -- targeting specifically, Caroline. Hermione's Muggle cousin happened to be quite pretty, with large brown eyes, rather spotless olive skin and thick auburn hair that seemed much more manageable than Hermione's. The twins were currently shamelessly performing little bits of magic to amuse her, obviously trying to outdo each other and win her attention.

"Well if you'll look at this, Carol, I'm going to turn Fred into a hog now."

"Oh wow!" Caroline just said over and over again, eyes wide, hands clutched to her chest. "This is amazing! Can you show me another one, please? Fred? George?"

And of course, they would comply. Who were they to say no to a pretty girl, witch or not?

Harry finally found the words to respond to Ginny, who was still standing in front of him waiting for an explanation. He looked up and managed to look her in the eye, which was an amazing feat despite the fact that his knees immediately turned to jelly. "Well," he explained, ruffling his hair and feeling rather pathetic. "I just figured that you'd like a bloke like Owen more than me... and that you'd think I was a... a, nuisance, I guess." He chuckled humorlessly. "I mean, why would you ever want to hang out with me, given the chance?"

Ginny suddenly straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest, getting that intense look in her eye that either meant she was going to hex him into oblivion or snog him. Harry swallowed. He certainly hoped it was the latter. "Harry," she said. Her voice left no room for argument. "That's absolutely ridiculous. I _did_ choose to hang out with you. I _did_ choose to be your friend again and you've _got_ to get that in through your thick head." Here she tapped on Harry's skull for emphasis. "Stop it with this self-pitying act, Harry. Low self-esteem really does _not_ become you, and if you keep this up," she quirked one side of her mouth up in a crooked smile. "Well, you'll never get shagged."

Harry sputtered, turning red.

"Well, it's the truth!" she argued. "Anyways," she continued, her voice getting softer as she looked slightly away. "There's no one I'd rather spend time with... so you can be certain that you'd never be a nuisance." She looked back up at him, brown eyes filled with something warm and... well, indescribable. Harry swallowed. He didn't even want to contemplate what he thought he saw there -- if he dared to let himself hope, he could end up very disappointed.

"Thanks," he croaked out, shuffling his feet awkwardly. He glanced to his side, desperate to avoid eye contact. It seemed as though Ron and Hermione were just emerging from the dressing stall, flushed and a bit disheveled. Ginny followed his gaze.

"Oh it looks like we'd better go change out of our things and tell Madame Malkin what to alter," she murmured. She turned back to Harry, and before he could think, she had leaned forward on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck fiercely. He had barely processed this very nice fact (mmm, she smelled like vanilla), when she had drawn away. "I'll always be just an owl away," she said before turning and leaving him.

Harry stumbled over to one of the dressing room stalls and sat down in a corner. Right now, he needed nothing more than a firewhiskey and a long talk with Ron.

**Please review -- my usual request.**

**Also, if anyone was wondering what kind of wedding gowns I'd put them all in:  
Hemione's dress: http://shop. bridesmaids dresses are these in silver: http://shop. have a dress similar to the bridesmaids one, except in navy. Combined with a pair of stilettos and some smoky eyeshadow, it's a real lifesaver.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**LaLaLovely47: ick. thanks for the heads-up; i had no idea that fanfic takes out the links in stories. sigh. oh well, i suppose seeing the wedding dress isn't that important (or maybe i'll save 'em for the wedding chapter, eh?). **

**emcm: thanks for picking up this story! and yes ;). harry is SO an emotional eater. i love vulnerable-awkward harry, don't you?**

**imagination-on-the-run: goodness! the best story following the defeat of voldemort? i'm so flattered -- thanks so much for the high praise. it definitely made my day. anyways, here's another silly little chapter. hope you enjoy!**

**JamieBell: as always, i'm delighted to hear from you. glad you found these little chapters amusing -- oh i just loved DH! it made me cry too, don't worry. so many sad scenes. oh remus, tonks. (sniffle). i still can't handle that. but anyway, i hope you like this chapter!**

**Elmire: it was indeed your shortest review! but i understand -- i need my sleep or else i can't function at work at all. well, i'm glad you got around to reading it, anyway. i left a review on your story, halloween! hope you got it (and could actually read it).  
**

**In terms of p****lot indiscrepencies... this chapter is full of them (in regards to Penny). I know Hedwig was mentioned earlier. Sorry about that. Don't flame, please. My dog's crying right now, so I should probably walk him after I update this chapter. Poor baby. **

"I'm getting married, mate!" Ron hollered, causing the rest of the customers at the pub to send dirty looks his way. After all, it was widely known that people came to frequent pubs when they were desperate and lonely -- and news of marital bliss tended to make them all a bit jealous. So it was no wonder that one middle-aged wizard sitting at the bar (and clearly plastered) turned around and slurred at Ron hysterically.

"You... b...bloody prat," he spat out. "I just... my wife, she's cheating on me! Cheating on me! And you," he waved his arms around hysterically. "You come in here and... talk with, that is, I mean... talk _about_ your marrying..." And he trailed off, taking another deep swig of his firewhiskey.

Ron and Harry exchanged looks.

"Butterbeer it is," Ron muttered, motioning for the bartender to come their way. He turned back to Harry, who sat twisting his hands nervously. "So, what'd you want to talk about?"

What _did_ he want to talk about? Was he planning on having a deep heart-to-heart conversation with Ron about their relationships and what it all _meant_? Did he want to cry and fill out quizzes from Witch Weekly with him? Did he want to watch sappy Muggle films and eat tubs of ice cream? Wasn't that what you were supposed to do when you were desperately lovelorn? ...Well, he amended in his mind. That was what you were supposed to do if you were _female_, as the films portrayed it, anyway. Never mind. He could alter those activities to fit his sex. He could... grunt his fears and insecurities to Ron, cry over a good game of Quidditch and get piss-drunk. On butterbeer. Even though that didn't really work unless you were a house elf. Whatever.

"Well," he sighed as Ron looked at him curiously. "I'm bloody in love with your sister. You can kill me if you want -- I can't help it. Anyway," he sighed again, "You don't have to worry about anything because I'm almost certain that she doesn't love me back."

Ron took a swig of his butterbeer (which had finally come) and gave Harry an appalled look. "You're a bloody idiot, you know that?" he said in disbelief. "Of _course_ you're in love with my sister -- you've been in love with my sister since the beginning of time, remember?"

"There was Cho," Harry pointed out helpfully.

Ron snorted. "That was _not_ love. That was just you being a randy fifth year and you know it. Kind of like," he blanched. "Me and Lavender."

"Right," Harry sighed, taking a long drink from his own mug. "I suppose I'm a one girl kind of bloke, just like you. It's a shame she doesn't love me back, eh?"

Ron looked thoughtful. "No," he admitted, "I suppose she did give up on you long ago, since she's been going around with all those other blokes. Wankers, the lot of them, if you ask me." He brightened. "But I'm sure you could get her to like you again! You're a charming, interesting kind of fellow."

"Not when I can't speak two words in her presence!" Harry retorted. "Believe me, it's all a lost cause. I'll just content myself with observing and pining from afar, thank you."

The two friends fell into a deep silence, punctuated only by slurping noises as they drank their butterbeers. When Ron was around Hermione, he was never, ever allowed to slurp, and so he seemed to make up for it when he could by slurping as loudly as possible. Harry found it rather annoying but brushed it aside -- it was one of the things that made Ron _Ron_, after all.

"Say, I know what you should do!" Ron suddenly hopped up. "Ginny loves the theater... maybe you should take her to an upcoming production or something."

"You think?" Harry asked hopefully. He ran a hand through his hair. Well, this would be hard to mess up, wouldn't it? He'd just buy tickets, ask Ginny if she'd like to go and maybe... insinuate that it was as a _date_. Wait, no. That was too much. But buying tickets and asking Ginny didn't seem _too_ daunting. He could remedy his earlier mistakes too, and buy her dinner. It seemed a foolproof plan. "Yeah... yeah Ron! You're brilliant. I'l definitely do that."

And satisfied with those results, the two best friends settled down to an evening of butterbeer, long talks about Quidditch and the occasional mention of wedding plans.

"She's insane," Ron muttered. Harry was pretty sure he would never stop saying that phrase -- he'd used it since he _met_ Hermione in first year, really. He could imagine Ron and Hermione in their elderly years, with grandkids running around. And Ron would still shake his head in that same way and say, "She's insane."

"What's wrong now?" Harry asked. "She still going psychotic with the wedding plans?"

"I'm pretty sure she'll be absolutely mad until we actually get the wedding over with," Ron responded. "She's worked herself into a frenzy. You have no idea what it's like. It's just always - _Ron we need to pick out the icing for the cake_ or _Ron, what kind of party favors should we have_? The invitations alone," he grabbed at his hair in anguish. "Are _killing _me. She stays up until three in the morning double checking seating arrangements. I'll be glad when this is all over."

"Well," Harry said optimistically. "There's always the honeymoon to look forward to, eh?"

"We're going to Bulgaria, of all places," Ron chortled good-naturedly. "Can you imagine how I would've reacted to that a couple years earlier?"

Harry knew very well how Ron would've reacted. He imagined him turning purple and exploding with a loud shout of, "YOU WANT TO VISIT THAT BLOODY PRAT KRUM, DON'T YOU?" But he figured Ron meant that as a rhetorical question, so he kept his mouth shut.

"I would've blown it," Ron continued. "But apparently the countryside is beautiful and very remote, you know," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "For our _alone_ time. And we're staying in this lovely lakeside villa, so I'm ready for some relaxing, really. It's a bloody shame she wouldn't let me buy tickets to the Quidditch match that's going on while we're there though... said something about spending quality time together." He pulled a face. "I love her to death, of course, but if she makes me visit one more bloody research library..."

He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Didn't she drag you off that one year the World Cup was held in Rome?" Harry asked.

"Right. To see Muggle Basillicas or something."

"And you missed the winning shot, right?"

"Yeah. Don't remind me of it."

A pause.

"You're perfect for each other, you know. I've known that since first year."

"I did too, really. That's why I hated her so bloody much -- my eleven year old self was uncontrollably attracted to her and couldn't handle it."

"Good thing she kissed you that one time, eh?"

"...That was bloody brilliant."

They lapsed into another contemplative silence.

"Hey," Ron said, when they'd finished their butterbeers and paid the bartender. "Want to come over and watch a Muggle action flick or something? I'm getting addicted to those DVD things."

"Sure."

The two friends ambled out together, content with simple conversations about Quidditch, food and how bloody awesome it was in the movie when that one bloke blew off the alien's head using nothing but a grenade he fashioned out of duct tape, a can of beans and his left shoe.

When Harry finally returned home, three hours later, he found himself confronted with a small pile of mail. One look at the envelope on top and he knew -- Lavender had _definitely _not given up. This one was (he shuddered), an appropriate shade of lavender and was emanating the strong scent of artificial strawberries. He opened it cautiously and found, to his dismay, that she had upgraded from glitter poofs to sequined poofs. After shaking the bright sequins out of his hair, he skimmed the letter.

_Dearest, darlingest Harry:_

_I'm guessing that my last letter was lost in the mail - owl post is just so terribly unreliable these days, isn't it? - so I'm sending you another. I haven't heard from you in quite a while, and it's driving me sick with worry. Are you alright? Have you been happy? Do you think about me as much as I think about you? I hope that the answers to those questions are yes, yes and a resounding YES, because if that weren't the case, you'd simply break my dear, delicate heart. Which, by the way, is located near my dear, ample bosom. Which is all yours for the taking, Harry, if you so desire it. _

Here, Harry had to put the letter down for a moment to gag. _Merlin_, who did this girl think that she was?! After a swig of water, the nausea had subsided a bit, so he endeavored to finish the letter.

_Please respond to me as soon as possible. I'd love to see you, talk to you, hear from you, touch you and taste you again. _

_With all my senses,_

_Lavender Brown _

Harry set the letter aside, downing the contents of his glass of water. He still felt as though he were about to retch, but he figured going through the rest of the mail wouldn't be as terrible. The next owl was a postcard with a picture of a tropical island on the back. He turned it over curiously. He didn't know anyone who was going on vacation...

_Professor Potter: _

_Hello! I just wanted to check in to tell you that June and I won't be in class on Monday, seeing as how we're currently in Majorca. It was an unexpected trip - June decided to apparate here and we liked the beachside bungalows so much we decided to stay a couple days. Actually, it's June's idea to skip class, so if you're going to punish anyone, make it her. _

Here, Garrett's messy scrawl was interrupted by June's loopy script.

_Don't listen to that prat, professor! He forced me here against my own will -- that conniving rat. Anyways, I'll definitely be practicing my hexes... on Garrett! See you Tuesday. _

_Love, _

_Garret and June (your favorite students)_

_P.S. - We'll be sure to bring you back a souvenir! How could you get mad at us then, eh? _

Though he normally didn't condone student absences (especially for personal holidays), Harry had to chuckle at their postcard. It was about bloody time those two got together -- they rather reminded him of Ron and Hermione really. Desperately in love with each other (he could tell as soon as they entered his classroom), yet painfully clueless. He pushed their postcard aside, determined to let them off with a light punishment when they returned on Tuesday. Finally, he came across a letter from Neville.

_Harry, _

_I'm hosting a Quidditch-watching party at my flat next Sunday. I was thinking all of us blokes could get together, catch up, drink butterbeers and eat sausages or something. Guy's night, you know? _

_-Neville _

Harry pulled out several pieces of parchment, determined to respond to his mail. He started off with Lavender's -- he had always believed that you had to do the hardest and most despicable chores first, just to get them over with. Otherwise, he'd never get around to it and he'd just continually receive glitter-plastered pieces of parchment in the mail. That certainly wasn't a welcome notion.

Biting his lip, he started.

_Lavender, _(no "dear"... he didn't want her to get the wrong intention)

_Thank you for your interest, but as of this moment, I am really not interested in a relationship. I'm sure you're a lovely girl _("To Goyle, maybe," he mutttered), _but I simply don't see us together. In fact, I've got my sights set on someone else -- I'm sorry, I just had to tell you that so you wouldn't get the wrong idea. I think it'd be best if you moved on and found someone who really deserved you._

_-Harry_

Well, as half-assed and insincere as that was, it would work. Harry tied up the piece of parchment and sent it out with Penny, his owl (Hermione had given her to him after Hedwig had died - bless her soul. Unfortunately, Hermione had named her as well, leaving Harry with a rather feminine-named owl). The next letter was simple:

_Hey Neville,_

_I'd love to come. Shall I bring something? A six pack of butterbeer perhaps?_

_-Harry _

Finally, he opened his copy of The Daily Prophet, scouring the theater headlines. One large, pulsating advertisement caught his eye -- after all it was nearly all in red and pink and made giant smooching sounds as he opened it. _See Heart's Desire, the Favorite Show of Witches Everywhere! The Perfect Date Play, raves Witch Weekly!_ He glanced at it once more...

Well, it was rather disgusting, but it _had_ just won Witch Weekly's Choice Awards. He stared at the advertisement once more. It was rather blinding. And painful to look at. But if was the sort of thing witches liked... He sighed and made out the money order, sending it off to the ticket box offices. There. Two tickets to Heart's Desire, "a heartwrenching tale of love triangles, forbidden love, and unrequited love. Featuring the hit number, 'Oh Why Do You Torture Me So, My Love?'"

He then sat down, daunted by the task at hand. He had to ask Ginny out. Quill shaking, he started off.

_Dear Ginny, _

_It was great seeing you again today. I reckon we still have a lot to catch up on -- in your life at least. Mine is just as dull as ever, I'm afraid. But since you said you could never get tired of me - _he smiled at the mere memory of this -_ I've decided to test your patience. I've got tickets to this new play called "Heart's Desire"-- I hear it's gotten some pretty decent reviews. It's showing Friday night and I was thinking we could go grab some dinner before we see it. So what do you say? Do you want to go, or are you going to leave me to watch a play by myself (that's pathetic, I know). Have a heart, Ginny._

_Yours, (_he felt a little thrill as he wrote this)

_Harry_

----

Ginny was seated in her flat, drinking a mug of hot chocolate while she listened to a comedy program on the radio. She had just chortled at a joke involving a witch, toadskin and an abandoned hut when Penny, Harry's owl, flew in through the window and deposited a letter onto her lap. "Hello you pretty bird," she murmured as she stroked Penny's soft feathers. "What have you got for me there?"

She opened the letter, skimming the contents. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open.

"_Heart's Desire_?" she muttered to herself disbelievingly as she shook her head. Penny hooted in alarm. "Of all the bloody plays showing in London, he had to pick Heart's Desire? That piece of trash?"

She sighed, slumping down into the couch. With a flick of her wand, she levitated a piece of parchment and quill towards her.

"Well," she though aloud. "It's going to be one hellish show to sit through, but lucky for Harry, I'm absolutely in love with him."

Penny cocked her head.

"Oh dear, you won't tell him, will you?" Ginny asked, and promptly rolled her eyes. "Look at me. I'm looking to an owl for emotional support. Anyway, I suppose I'd better send off my response."

_Harry,_

_Friday would be fabulous. Although I'm curious -- why'd you pick "Heart's Desire"? It doesn't seem like the kind of thing you'd choose. Anyway, never mind. I'd love to come see it with you. Come by my flat on Friday at around 6, and don't bother taking me out for dinner. I'll cook for us. I know I'm not nearly as good as Mum, but trust me. I can make some mean ravioli. So what do you say? Dinner in exchange for the show tickets? I think it's a fair trade._

_Always,_

_Ginny_

Ginny sent off the letter with Penny (as well as an owl treat, of course) and quickly went to pop into Luna's fireplace for a round of girl talk. Thankfully, Luna wasn't too busy – in fact, she was sitting right at her kitchen table, stringing together different types of dried beans and glass beads into exotic, quirky necklaces. Luna had actually opened her own shop in the artsy part of wizarding London, Bohemian Lane. IT was doing quite well, from what Ginny had heard. In fact, a recent news article had praised Luna for her "artistic sensibility and impeccable eye." Apparently she was currently the hottest thing in fashion design and jewelry.

Ginny had quite a few pieces of jewelry by her, actually.

"Hi Luna!" she called out. Luna turned around and smiled serenely when she saw her friend's head in the fireplace.

"Oh, hello Ginny. What brings you here?"

"I just wanted to tell you. Harry's asked me to see a play!"

Luna dropped the beads she was holding and clapped her hands together excitedly. "I knew it!" she squealed. "I performed a special incantation the last time I saw you two together, and it worked!"

Ginny decided not to say anything to that. "Only one problem," she continued, grimacing slightly. "He's asked me to see… well, _Heart's Desire_.'

Luna's delighted grin froze and slowly molded into a puzzled look. People generally misunderstood Luna – she was quirky and eccentric, yes, but that didn't mean that she had no taste. No indeed… Luna had exceptional taste when it came to theater, music and even film… and she and Ginny had recently spent an entire afternoon reading reviews for Heart's Desire and making great fun of it. "That awful saccharine show that has no plot or sensibility whatsoever?" she asked in an offended tone. "The one that I'm _sure_ was written by forest nymphs? _Brain-damaged_ forest nymphs?"

Ginny nodded grimly. "That's the one."

"Oh." Luna motioned for her to come in. "Why don't you just floo over then – and we can talk about Harry's terribly unfortunate choice in theatrical productions. Come on," she grinned slyly. "I'll make my special hot chocolate."

As an avid hot chocolate fan, it had always infuriated Ginny how she could never quite figure out how Luna made her superb hot chocolate. It was really quite something special. When asked, she said that it came from root of Cinnaroll Poppy extract. Well, Ginny had looked everywhere and she was pretty certain Cinnaroll Poppy extract did _not_ exist.

"The kind with big fluffy marshmallows?" she asked hopefully.

Luna levitated over a bag of marshmallows. "That's right!"

In less than the time it took to say "Hot chocolate," Ginny was comfortably seated on Luna's overstuffed paisley couch, ranting while Luna puttered around in the kitchen making hot chocolate.

"I mean, I like the boy," she stated. "In fact, I would even venture so far to say that I _love_ the boy. But I have to ask – could I really be with someone who would willingly pay _money_ to see that kind of trash? I mean, first it's this. Then what's next? Is he going to bring home romance novels? Will he demand that I decorate my home in lace doilies and pink frills? Because believe me – I do _not_ want to be the next Dolores Umbridge when it comes to interior design."

Luna came over with two mugs of hot chocolate and sank into the couch beside Ginny, pulling her legs up as she handed Ginny one of the mugs. "It's really wrong," she said in a hushed, appalled tone. "It's just _so_ wrong. Maybe he's possessed?"

"Maybe," Ginny responded rolling her eyes. "Who knows, at this point? Anyway," she sighed resting her head against one of the vegetable shaped pillows that Luna had made. This one happened to be a beet. "I figure I should give him once chance. If he really does seem to enjoy this kind of stuff…" she trailed off, shrugging helplessly. "What I mean to say is, if he isn't who I thought he was, then I suppose I'll just get over him and you know, move on."

"That's a lovely idea," Luna nodded her head agreeably. The bells on her beret tinkled. She looked contemplative for a moment, as if she didn't know whether or not to say something. Ginny tilted her head curiously. Finally Luna gave in, blushing as she said hurriedly, "Neville's been sending me quite a few owls. Would you like to see them?"

Ginny giggled. "Of course! Let's go analyze them and see if he really _likes_ you."

Luna blushed a deeper pink and the two friends spent the rest of the night giggling and whispering before a cheery fire, all thoughts of Harry's godawful taste in plays all but forgotten.

**Admit it, I rock for updating this often. **

**Now go review! Shoo! If you're good... an update Saturday morning, perhaps? Don't tell me you aren't tempted to press the little review button and drop me a line. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello, my dears. Here's the thing -- I know you're used to updates every two days (or often every single day), but I've been updating so frantically that honestly, the pace is wearing me out. I work from 9-5, and I've also got other things I have to do - spend time with my family, walk my dog, catch up with old friends - and I can't update every single day. I'm just tuckered out from all of this, so I'm taking a little break. Basically, don't expect an update til Tuesday or Wednesday at the earliest. That's still pretty soon, and it gives me about three days to actually get in sleep and some time for myself. **

**Anyways, thanks a million to: imagination-on-the-run, emcm, sweetblonde15, velcroSUNSHINE, Shannonn14, PiecesofEight, Ehlonna, jennyelf, kaypgirl, syntheticxsunshine, charleegirl, CrazyLittleThingCalledLove, hpanai, Liinx, The1AndOnly-Bighead, Lily-Sun, karma11, spockfan1701, and digitalmonster911. **

**Sabriel-Anna: honestly, i love that harry is a mess. i find awkward messes insanely attractive -- which might prove to be a problem, haha. way to go - long reviews are good and very much appreciated! looking forward to hearing more from ya.**

**keaneplay: wow, impressive! you read through 10 chapters in one go?! you are amazing - thanks for being such a good reader (and reviewer!). and don't worry about what people say -- it's not about what "girly" or "manly" traits you have, it's how you grow as a person. honestly (how old are you anyway?), i know a lot of great guys who had "girly" habits and just grew into them. they're really comfortable with themselves now, and that's all that matters. anyway, glad you're liking this!**

**elmire: haha, thanks! i tried very hard with the french. goodness, i'm tired to death too. it was a hard week at work, so i'll probably just crash this weekend and spend my time going out and stuff. but never fear -- i won't abandon this story. the next update will be sometime early next week, i promise! anyways, i'm going to go sleep as soon as i finish posting this up. haha.**

**JamieBell: I think I adore Garrett and June. Their subplot is kind of really fun to write. Anyway -- yay for The Office! Gosh, you make me want to watch old reruns or something. I loveee that show with a burning passion. Every character is just so hilarious. I was thinking about the Dundies episode today and I totally snickered at work. Gaha.**

** Lalalovely47: Hahha, we'll see how the play turns out, I suppose. Aww, you envisioned Penny just as I did. a nice big, soft owl. Kind of motherly, if owls can be motherly. Anyways, enough of that. Thanks for reviewing, and I do hope you like this chapter!**

**DarkyDearest: I'm definitely craving some hot chocolate right now too. Mmm... I love awkward Harry as well. I think he's adorable. And that is why I write him out to be such an awkward character. Poor boy.**

**And... okay. Here's the chappie. Read. Be happy.  
**

Chapter 11

On Monday, Harry went to work and dropped by the ticket offices on the way home in order to pick up his two tickets to "Heart's Desire." The building itself made him want to turn back -- it was covered in giant shimmering hearts and played love songs at full blast. The witch at the window wore a puffy pink dress and dreadful fake eyelashes. On her head, she wore a curly pink wig. She looked utterly miserable.

"Tickets to the most romantic show on earth?" she asked boredly.

"Right," Harry muttered, grabbing the tickets and shoving them into his jacket pocket. They were coated in red sparkly hearts and tied with gold ribbon. Merlin, he hoped Ron was right about this. He didn't want to have to see this vomit-inducing show for nothing. He sighed and apparated home.

It got worse from there. When he returned home, he saw it on the table -- the bright red, _sparkling_ Howler. The scent of perfume hung in the air and of course, he knew. Bloody hell, it was from Lavender. Cringing, he quickly scampered over to the kitchen table and ripped the letter open.

"_HARRY POTTER, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"_ Lavender's hysterical voice rang through the kitchen. "_I LOVED YOU. I WAS WILLING TO DO ANYTHING FOR YOU. HOW COULD YOU JUST THROW MY TORTURED HEART BACK IN MY FACE LIKE THAT? HUH? HUH? I'M DISGUSTED WITH YOU. I HATE YOU. AND I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU MISERABLE - MARK MY WORDS. I'LL FIGURE OUT WHICH SLAG YOU'RE SEEING AND THEN THERE WILL BE HELL TO PAY. DID YOU HEAR ME? HELL TO PAY!" _

And with that, the paper envelope crumpled into a pile and neatly burst into flames.

"Well," Harry said to himself, reeling a bit from the shock. "That was... interesting."

Clearly, Lavender was the most insane witch he had ever met. And that list included Bellatrix Lestrange. Though, Harry thought -- in retrospect, Umbridge might be one to beat out Lavender. He briefly wondered if young Dolores Umbridge had been anything like Lavender when she was younger -- an idiotic slag with an odd propensity for the color pink, satin, lace and cute n' cuddly kittens. Blech. He pitied the poor fool who ended up marrying her. Or even dating her for a day. It seemed a fate rather worse than death.

...If only Draco Malfoy wasn't happily engaged to what's her name... that pretty Slytherin girl. Oh right, Daphne Greengrass. Harry had to smirk to himself as he recalled Pansy's reaction when Draco had showed up with Daphne at a Ministry event. Needless to say, there were many tears shed, quite a few champagne flutes thrown, and Draco ended up with a bloody gash across his face. Pansy was arrested on the spot for disorderly conduct and assault. Ah, satisfaction. It was a shame he hadn't been able to take pictures. He must remember to bring his camera everywhere from now on.

On Tuesday, Harry came in to work to find his two favorite students (it was true -- they were his favorites, though he wasn't going to tell anyone) newly tanned, seated in the front row and smiling rather nervously at him. He kept an impassive face as he taught the lesson -- they were reviewing blocking spells this time. As the class disbanded, he gestured towards the two students.

"Garrett. June. I'd like to speak with you after class, please," he said.

Garrett visibly swallowed, and Harry could see June pat him on the back comfortingly. Good Merlin, they were adorable. Harry wasn't one to coo at puppy love, but really, these two made it impossible to reprimand them. It was like stepping on a furry little hamster right after it had performed little tricks and juggled for you. Simply cruel.

"Hi Professor Potter," Garrett approached him, already wringing his hands. June stood slightly behind him, twirling the end of her ponytail as she stared quite intently at her sneakers. "Um, as promised, we brought you back a seashell necklace! And stuff."

June elbowed him not-so-discreetly in the ribs.

"Like," he rummaged through his messenger bag. "This bottle of rum! The rum there was fantastic."

Harry tried very hard to hide his smirk.

Garrett realized what he was saying and quickly backtracked. "I mean, not that I tried any of it! I've just heard, you know. That the rum was excellent. But we spent our time having good clean fun."

"And practicing our hexes!" June piped in helpfully. "I've almost perfected that tripping one you taught us."

Garrett grimaced, lifting his pant leg to reveal several angry purple bruises. "Quite right, she has," he muttered, though he ruined his angry demeanor by shooting June an admiring look.

Harry kept his face solemn for a moment, watching as they guiltily shifted in front of him. Garrett, in particular, looked as though he might pee in his pants at any moment. Finally, he gave in, breaking into a big grin.

"Thanks for the rum," he chortled, much to their surprise. "I'll put it to good use. So, go on now. Tell me -- how was the trip?"

Once they realized that their professor was certainly _not_ going to punish them for taking class time off to go on a vacation, June and Garrett hopped onto the desks and settled down comfortably -- Garrett sat on a desktop with his legs dangling off while June sat cross-legged beside him, her head rested on his shoulder.

"It was absolutely brilliant!" Garrett exclaimed excitedly, eyes shifting over to look at June. His grin grew wider as she nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder.

Harry coughed, making the two students blush.

"Right, it was just amazing," June gushed. "Garrett's Muggleborn, so it was his idea to spend the whole time vacationing like Muggles. So we stayed in these bungalows, which were quite strange because you had to turn these little switch thingies for the light to come on, and there was this strange black box that played the most entertaining programs -- what were they called?"

"It was a television," Garrett supplied helpfully. "And she was absolutely obsessed with reality shows."

"Top Chef's very good," June continued, oblivious to Garrett, who had just rolled his eyes. "It's quite amazing how Muggles cook, really. Very impressive. Anyway, we took these strange metal boxes on wheels to the beach-"

"Buses," Garrett corrected.

"Right, the buses. And we went, uh... wake-boarding. Is that right, dear?" At Garrett's nod, she smiled brightly. "It's some odd Muggle sport -- rather painful when you end up scraped against the sand, but for the most part, it was fun. We also saw some movies, which are like enlarged versions of television programs. I think I love them. Garrett says that he'll buy me a television and teach me how to order something called... cable, I believe. I'm so excited!"

Garrett chuckled and shook his head ruefully. "I'm starting to think that might be a bad idea. Seems like you've got a new addiction there."

June smacked Garrett's shoulder. "Well you turned me onto it," she retorted. "The least you could do is support my addiction, you irresponsible prat. You're exactly the kind of person who would father a brood of crack babies and then leave the mother and her three, retarded children to rot in the back of some fast food restaurant."

Garrett raised an eyebrow. "Which is exactly why you're going out with me, right?"

June sighed and threw her hands up. "I really have got the worst taste, haven't I?"

And the two young lovebirds grinned at each other soppily.

"Alright, out of my office, you two," Harry growled, mock-sternly. He shooed them away and chuckled to himself as they left the room, walking side by side so that their shoulders brushed. It was students like them who made his job worth it.

On Wednesday, Harry did his laundry.

Normally, Harry was not that meticulous about what he wore. As a bachelor, he rarely folded his clothes. In fact, he didn't really wash them until he was down to his last pair of underwear.

But this time… well, this time it was a little more _important._ He had a date with Ginny Weasley on Friday night – well, not _exactly _a date, he conceded – but he had an outing of some sort. And the point was, she was going to see him (because Ginny wasn't blind). And he didn't want her to take one look at him, say, "Ew" and promptly slam the door shut in his face.

So he was faced with the rather pathetic task of fretting over his clothes. Two days in advance. He could already hear what all of his male friends would say if they heard about this – Merlin, even his _female_ friends would find this hilarious.

He ran a hand through his hair as he decided between the navy blue sweater and the charcoal gray blazer. And after this there was _ironing_ to be done. He wondered if he still had that nice linen water that he had received as a flat-warming gift.

On Thursday, Harry was beside himself. He constantly paced through the classroom, greatly alarming his students. When Melinda Thicket in the front row asked him what was wrong, he replied like an insane babbler.

"What's wrong is that there is still darkness in the world!" he responded hysterically. "Not dark lords, but more subtle forms are evil!"

"Like taxes?" Garrett asked innocently.

"No!" Harry barked back. "Like… bad plays! And evil women who won't stop owling you even though you've sent back several polite rejection letters! And glitter! And my bloody nervous tics whenever I'm around _her_."

And with that, he stormed out of the classroom.

His class remained seated, in shock. Garrett and June glanced at each other, expressions of awe on both their faces.

After a moment, Harry popped back in.

"Oh, and err," he said, clearly embarrassed. "Class is cancelled tomorrow. Have a good weekend, class."

Friday morning, Harry Potter emerged from bed with great dark rings underneath his eyes and a throbbing headache. He had spent the whole night tossing and turning in bed, going over every single way he could go wrong during his date… err, his friendly excursion with Ginny. As a result, he hadn't been able to sleep.

Bloody hell, the things he was suffering for this girl.

He took his time, getting dressed -- ironing his jeans even (though he had heard somewhere that it wasn't necessary), picking out a white dress shirt (the one _without_ the coffee stains down the front. Or the ink stains. Bloody hell -- or the blood stains?!), and his blazer. He looked in the mirror...

"Well," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to tame it. "At least I look somewhat presentable."

Presentable might not do it -- he'd prefer to look painfully sexy, or better yet, simply irresistible. But for the time being, it seemed like he'd have to settle for presentable. Normal, nervous, presentable Harry.

He glanced at the clock. Oh bloody hell – he still had, what was that? Five hours left until he had to apparate over to her flat? What was he supposed to do in that time? After pacing through the kitchen for half an hour, brushing his teeth twice, reorganizing the kitchen cabinets, and sorting through his socks by color, Harry finally decided – he had had enough. He really needed to get out and spend the next… three and a half hours doing something a tad bit more productive.

He walked out the door and started walking. It was a good thing he was in Muggle clothing, since he rather felt like wandering around Muggle London. He had to admit – it was a nice diversion. When he was in Muggle London, he could be anyone. He was just a normal, rather dimwitted bloke (judging from the strange looks people gave him when he couldn't remember certain Muggle things – like how elevators worked). No one ran up to him screaming his name. No one tried to get his autograph or take his picture. And no one sent him disgusting, bubblegum scented love letters.

Yes indeed, life as Harry the commoner was not bad at all. He strolled into a used book store and began perusing in the children's fantasy section, as he often liked to do. The fairy tales, with their fanciful accounts of witches and wizards and all sorts of sorcery made him smile – he remembered when he was a little boy and snuck into the school library to hide from Dudley and his gang. He would read these kinds of books and wish that they could be true… Funny how things had turned out.

The books made him so nostalgic he decided to buy one of the books, a collection of Anderson's fairy tales. He figured he could always give it to Bill's kids later… surely they'd enjoy this kind of thing. They'd probably find it hilarious, actually – he could imagine Fleur reading through the stories, her eyebrows raised. "Zey theenk we all have _warts_?" she would ask in an appalled tone.

He checked his watch – he had spent more time in the bookstore than he had reckoned. It was already 6, and he had owled Ginny earlier to say that he'd be there at 7 pm sharp. He meandered down the sidewalk, wondering what else there was to do.

She was probably cooking for him right now, standing in her kitchen with that lovely red hair tied back in a ponytail as she tied her apron around her back. He thought of her stirring pots, lifting up wooden ladles to taste soup. Merlin, she was probably intensely attractive no matter what she was doing. He remembered thinking that she was very very attractive even when she had just come back from Quidditch practice, or better yet, even when she had come down with the stomach flu one winter. She had been puking every half hour, dressed in flannel pajamas, and yet when he flooed to the Burrow in order to say hello, his heart had still stopped when he saw her there, sprawled across the living room sofa as she moaned, "Merlin, someone kill me! I feel like I've swallowed some giant slugs."

That was a rather disturbing thought, really. What kind of person was he? Were normal people attracted to deathly ill girls? Did he have some kind of a fetish? After a moment of considerable panic, he decided that no – he did not have a fetish, for he liked Ginny just as well when she was healthy and dressed like a proper human being.

Wasn't there something he was forgetting though? Some rule of etiquette? He had heard somewhere that when you were invited to someone's house for dinner, you were supposed to bring a gift or dessert of some sort. Did this count as a formal dinner? He decided to play it safe.

Fifteen minutes before seven, Harry Potter found himself standing on Ginny's doorstep suffering from a very bad case of the jitters. After checking his hair (one last time), he rang the doorbell and swallowed hard.

Ginny came to the door and he once again, found himself speechless. She was dressed in a simple navy blue dress with her hair tied back (just as he had suspected) and an oven mitt on her right hand. She smiled brightly.

"Oh hullo! You're here at last," she said, stepping back from the doorway to make room for him. "I'm just finishing up with the lasagna… I've got to pop it out of the oven and then we can dig in."

She paused as she watched Harry shuffle inside.

"Um, Harry? What'd you bring?" she asked quizzically, pointing at his hand.

"Oh," Harry held it up nervously and blushed. Had he done the wrong thing? He had heard that sometimes it was good to bring plants as a present – flowers or something. But he had wanted to do things a little differently. Ginny, after all, deserved the most exotic things. "It's a flowering cactus," he explained. "I got it for you."

Ginny paused once more. "Thank you," she finally said, giving him a tentative smile. "My hands are rather full-" she waved her mittened hands in front of him "-So would you mind setting it on the coffee table in the living room for me? It's really, really lovely, Harry. I'm sure it'll add, uh, a much needed eclectic feel to my flat's décor."

Harry trudged obediently towards the living room and set the cactus plant on the table. It didn't look half so bad, he thought. The prickly little feller was actually kind of cute. With this heartening thought, he walked back into the kitchen to find Ginny setting the lasagna in the middle of her simple wooden dining table. The place settings were set for two, and Harry's hands became clammy as he realized that the whole situation was rather like a date – an intimate dinner for two in a dimly lit room.

Merlin, how was he going to pull this off?

**Please review so I can go collapse into an exhausted heap... I only slept three hours last night (I had to be at work at 8), and I still managed to write this for you. So send a note my way, if only to wish me sweet dreams :). Gah, so tired. **


	12. Chapter 12

**thanks for being patient, loves. i've finally got this chapter up, thank god! AND i'm well rested. :D hope you enjoy and appreciate it. i've been super busy, what with my internship and stuff. work is killing me, i swear. oh, i was writing this chapter while i watched this korean movie called "seducing mr. perfect." terrible dialogue and cliched storyline, but daniel henney is the most gorgeous creature i've ever laid eyes on. seriously. go google image him or something. he's beautiful. it got me into such a giggly, fanfic-writing mood, so go thank him. hah! **

**thanks to: the1AndOnly-Bighead, Pieces of Eight, Britney Spears, Shannon14, hpanai, angel003, Georgentosser, syntheticxsunshine, asaia, ponyrox, Liinx, foolwiz, keaneplay, Lily-Sun, thegirlwholovestolaugh, HTB, sweetblonde15, imagination-on-the-run, roonilwazib7, karma11, DarkyDearest, PhoenixDreamer55.  
**

**Sabriel Anna: you know, i tend to love those boys the best -- the ones who are utterly aggravating but mean well, so it makes up for it. bumbling idiots can be rather adorable. :D hope you enjoy another chapter of poor harry here.**

**Priestess Kohana: thanks for reading through this and keeping with it! harry is still... well a little oblivious, but i do hope you enjoy this chapter. tehehhe.**

**VGJunky158: very impressed that you read this story in one go. i know you were impatient with the updating, but here it is. read and enjoy!**

**CaliciaHGluv: bad news -- it DOES end when he wins her back. haha, sorry, but i've already decided. however, i'll be sure to put as much thought into the ending as possible. and maybe write an epilogue. does that satisfy you? haha.**

**JamieBell: AH you're making me all antsy about the office season premiere. sigh. lovin' it. i missed out on so much tv while i was at college (mostly because i did not have one). i'm such a sucker though -- i love hearing updates about shows that i've watched and liked. for example, when i heard that dr. chase and dr. cameron from house md were getting married in real life, i freaked out. which screams of majorly dorky fangirl status, but ah well. :D **

Chapter 12

Harry had been sitting in Ginny's dining room (which was really just one corner of her kitchen) for approximately half an hour, and he was pretty sure he had spent at least 29 of those minutes sneaking covert glances at Ginny. Though he thought that he had been quite stealthy at this, Ginny had noticed.

And really, it was getting old. She didn't know how much more of this blank staring and stilted conversation she could take, really. The boy was adorable – aww, in his little blazer and with his messy hair! How could she resist? – but he was really grating on her nerves now. The tickets had been a sweet gesture (if somewhat misguided – she was _not_ looking forward to that play) and the cactus had been… well, interesting, to say the least.

At this very moment, he was staring at her open-mouthed, his forkful of lasagna frozen in midair. Ginny played with the ends of her hair self-consciously. Was there something on her face?

"So, what do you think of my cooking skills?" she asked, just to break through the gigantic blank wall of no response that was Harry.

He blinked. Ah. There was a response.

"Wonderful. Good. You. Cooking very good," he mumbled rather incomprehensibly. He wiped his mouth nervously. "What I meant to say was – well you are just brilliant."

Ginny smiled back. "Thanks, Harry. That's pretty flattering, considering you've been fed by my mother for years," she rolled her eyes. "Merlin knows that can spoil a person. I know I miss her food sometimes."

Harry nodded. "So. Err… how's life going? Is it… good?"

Ginny almost giggled at how awkward he was.

"It's great," she nodded exaggeratedly with an amused twitch of her lips. "Simply fantastic. I mean, I just saw you the other day, so I'm sorry to say that I don't have _that_ much news to tell you, but at least nothing terrible's happened, right? It's all been smooth sailing, really."

"I'm happy to hear that."

Who even said that anymore? Harry berated himself. "I'm happy to hear that"?! Talk about a boring conversationalist. He couldn't even carry on the conversation with her. How was he supposed to seduce her with his charm, his wit, his humor? It all seemed hopeless.

"Anyway," she waggled her eyebrows – a family trait she'd probably picked up from Ron. "You picked 'Heart's Desire' to see, huh? I'm interested, Harry – why'd you pick that play in particular?"

Err… Well this was a problem. What was he supposed to say to that, exactly? "It looked overwhelming sappy and poorly written, so I thought you might like it? The glitter and glitz appealed to him? He wanted a romantic performance because he was hoping to pick up some pointers?

"I've heard…" he swallowed a piece of lasagna, stalling for time. "I've heard it's the kind of thing that girls like, you know?"

She stared back at him blankly. "The kind of thing girls like?" she repeated, very slowly. This was clearly a bad sign. Whenever people repeated things back slowly, it meant one of three things:

A- They had just gone deaf. This was always a very unfortunate circumstance and he truly hoped that Ginny did not have hearing loss.

B- They were about to throw a large, blunt object at your head. He had picked this up from observing the patterns of Hermione and Ron. Whenever Hermione felt the need to repeat something that Ron had said, i.e. "My hair looks like a frizzball?" it was often followed by a flying book or paperweight. Thankfully, Ron's Quidditch skills were put to good use and he managed to escape most of the objects.

C- They thought that you were an absolutely idiotic wanker. This was the most reasonable option, though Harry didn't know quite why Ginny would think that he was an idiot. Normally he acted like enough of an idiot, but he thought he had done a rather good job this time. He had planned out the date, he had brought a flowering cactus and he hadn't spilled anything on himself _yet_.

Basically, her disapproving stare was beyond his understanding.

He tilted his head back, looking for all the world like a quizzical dog who'd just been scolded and didn't understand why. He thought he had done everything right this time. Why was she giving him that exasperated look, the one where she sighed deeply and shook her head slightly?

"Harry," she said slowly. "You are a bloody idiot, you know that?"

"Err, yes?" he responded, because it seemed like the smart thing to say at the moment. Plus, it wasn't exactly a lie – he _was_ an idiot, he just wasn't aware of what idiotic thing he had done this time.

He furrowed his eyebrows. Maybe if he pouted, she wouldn't throw anything at him.

Ginny leaned back in her chair and threw her hands up. "I never wanted to see that stupid show anyway!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry you had to waste your money on the tickets, but it seems like a waste of time. I mean, can you imagine?" She snorted. "The playwright –if you can even call her one – who wrote that piece of trash also writes the Sex-a-Cadabra column for Witch Weekly. It's _bound_ to be bad."

"Oh." Harry looked at his hands. He was both relieved and crestfallen at once. On one hand – thank Merlin he didn't have to see that play. He had been dreading it since he bought the tickets, really. Just the thought of sitting in seats that were advertised as "shimmer-coated" in a "hot pink extravaganza" sounded like his own personal version of hell.

On the other hand, he had _really_ thought that this might be something that Ginny would like. Perhaps he was more hopeless than he thought. "Well," he muttered, duly humiliated. "I was just trying to make you happy. I'm sorry… I really messed this up, didn't I?" He gestured towards the table. "I mean, you made us a great dinner and, and, well, did a really good job of being the hostess, and I couldn't even pick the right play tickets."

He looked up at her helplessly, his shoulders slumping.

Ginny took one look at him and her heart melted. Really, when he was sitting there like a little wounded puppy, how could she resist? He looked so sad, so horrified that his plans had failed. She tilted her head so she could look into his eyes.

His green eyes widened a bit as she smiled at him.

"Don't worry about it," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I like cooking, and I like cooking for people who appreciate it even better. And," she smirked. "You gave me a cactus. That's more than enough. It's definitely going to be an interesting conversation piece in my living room. I can tell people that not only is it a cactus," she adopted a mock-serious expression. "It's the cactus that the great Harry Potter picked out."

Harry smiled back tentatively. "Are you sure it's okay?" he asked worriedly. "Do you want me to try to find tickets to something else?"

Ginny shook her head. "Oh absolutely not," she responded. "Tell you what? If you help me clean up these dishes, we'll call it even. And then I'm sure we can find something else to do. We _are_ creative and interesting people, after all. We should be fully capable of entertaining ourselves for the evening."

They chatted easily through dinner as Ginny continued to try to lift Harry's dampened spirits by teasing him lightly – making fun of his shirt, his glasses, and most of all, the sordid tales the tabloids told of him.

"I don't know why you keep up with these," he commented, mystified as he bit into a slice of cheesecake. They had just started on dessert, since, as Ginny put it, it was the "best part of the meal." She wasn't kidding. She had prepared cheesecake with raspberries on top along with (from what Harry could see of the kitchen counter), some crème brulee.

She burst into giggles, scampering into the living room and returning with a formidable stack of glossy magazines and newspapers in tow. Almost all of them bore winking images of Harry.

"How could I _not_?" she countered, handing him one. "They're just so hilarious! I mean, look at that one. You're secretly married to an ex-Death Eater and have sired three illegitimate children? This is great stuff!"

He grimaced. "You'd think they'd come up with something more believable," he grouched. "I mean, these are just absurd."

Ginny shook her head. "Well, I mean, you're not giving them much real information to run with, you know? You've kept your personal life very well-hidden. Bravo for that," she clapped her hands together. "It's very impressive."

Harry chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "It's not that I'm good at keeping it a secret," he admitted. "It's just that I've got nothing _to_ keep a secret. Sorry to disappoint you," he smiled wryly. "But the love life of Harry Potter has been pretty slow."

Ginny snorted disbelievingly as she took a bite of her own dessert. She was so lovely, Harry thought, when she ate her food with such great enthusiasm. He had noticed that it was the kind of joy that she showed whenever she was around sweets – her eyes would light up and she would seem to glow. He made a note to bring dessert the next time he visited, or maybe a box of chocolates. The cactus had been… a, well, last-minute idea.

"I don't buy that," she countered. "I mean, you're Harry Potter. You must have lists of one night stands and model girlfriends. It's just one of the privileges that come with saving the world and all. You can't possibly expect me to believe that I was your first and last serious girlfriend."

He coughed.

Well, this was an awkward situation. The truth was, of course, that yes, Ginny was his first and last serious girlfriend. The other witches he occasionally brought to functions were just for show – publicity stunts, more than anything. Once in a while, a new singer or actress would come up to him and beg him to "introduce" her to society, and he usually agreed. He couldn't bring it in himself to say no after all.

But it just sounded so _pathetic_ when he chronicled his love life, because it really began and ended with one girl. The one sitting in front of him with a fading smile and realization dawning on her face.

"Oh," she said, suddenly turning very red.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and stared at a very interesting point on the table. "Yeah," he admitted.

There was a silence during which both of them stared in different directions, determined not to make any eye contact.

Ginny tapped her fingernails against the table and shifted in her seat.

Harry cleared his throat, took off his glasses, wiped them on his shirt and put them back on again.

They both glanced up, caught each other's eye and looked down again.

"So, should we take care of the dishes?" Ginny finally asked, her cheeks unusually red.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, relieved that someone had finally broken that silence. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

As Ginny stood up to collect the dishes, she brushed a hand over the envelope of play tickets and wrinkled her nose. "Ew," she said. "Should you do something with those? It seems like an awful waste of galleons."

Harry paused. He suddenly had a brilliant idea.

"Can I borrow your owl and a quill?" he asked. "I just thought of something."

Ginny pulled out her wand and accio-ed over a quill. "Here you go," she said, looking over his shoulder as he quickly wrote a note on the envelope.

_Lavender, _

_I'm sorry that you think I'm the most despicable human being on the planet. I have no interest in you whatsoever, but I am sending you these tickets as an apology. Find someone worth your time to see this with you. _

_Sincerely, _

_Harry _

As he tied it onto Cupcake's leg (Ginny liked naming things after baked goods – "It's charming!" she argued. "Everyone loves cupcakes.") Ginny giggled.

"You are far too nice to that girl," she commented, shaking her head as she made her way over to the kitchen sink. "But I suppose that she's the only person who'd really appreciate that show."

After they finished the dishes – during which Ginny splashed him twice with sudsy water and he retaliated by rubbing his soapy hands in her hair – they settled down on the couch in front of the fireplace in order to dry off and figure out what to do next.

"Even this," he said after a moment. "Is better than going to see that show."

"What?" Ginny asked innocently, propping her feet up onto the coffee table in front of her. "You mean sitting here in awkward silence?" She snickered.

Harry elbowed her.

She uncrossed her feet and managed to kick him in the shin.

"Ouch!" he cried out indignantly, even though it hadn't really hurt that much. It was just the principle of the thing – she was sitting there cackling at him right after she had injured him. The evil, violent witch.

"Ah, don't be a baby," she admonished. She suddenly hopped to her feet, a bright smile on her face. "Oh! I have one of those Muggle things, the televisions, you know. Hermione got it for me a few years back." She scrambled over and pressed the on button. "Oh, I've got a DVD in here somewhere… Hermione lent it to me last week and I haven't had the chance to see it. Ah. Here it is." She stood up, brushing herself off as she scrutinized the DVD case in her hand. "It's some Muggle film called Love Actually. Supposed to be quite good. Have you heard of it?"

Harry shook his head in the negative and Ginny shrugged, popping it into the machine.

It couldn't be a bad idea. First of all, from experience he knew that Hermione had fairly decent taste when it came to things like film, art and books. She wouldn't have lent Ginny anything too terrible. Secondly, the film was called Love Actually. He _still_ had some chance of making this evening romantic.

Ginny flopped down onto the couch next to him and he promptly dripped saliva onto his shirt. She raised an eyebrow at him and Harry groaned inwardly. Well, maybe he wasn't going to be the most romantic person, he admitted to himself. But at least he could have a good time with Ginny.

The movie came on and cheerful holiday music swelled up in the background. "Oh, a Christmas movie!" Ginny squealed, clapping her hands together in a way that made him smile. She reminded him of a young child sometimes. "I love Christmas music year-round," she admitted, blushing a bit.

They sat in comfortable silence and watched the film together. By and by, Ginny ended up scooting closer and leaned against Harry's shoulder. After a great internal debate, he decided that if he summoned up all of his willpower and concentration, he could probably attempt to put his arm around her without mucking it up.

"Oh the poor child," Ginny murmured when the little boy on the screen confessed that he was in love.

Harry glanced at her shoulder surreptitiously and raised his arm slowly.

Ginny giggled at something that happened in the movie.

Harry snaked his arm around the back of the sofa and rested it there stiffly. It was still a good six inches away from touching Ginny, and if he kept it in this position, he would end up with a numb arm and a potentially stiff neck. It was a very uncomfortable position.

Finally, he managed to inch his arm downwards and rest it around Ginny's shoulders softly. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the disaster that could potentially ensue.

She could brush his arm away. She could turn to him and ask, "Harry, what _are_ you doing?" She could laugh at him and break his heart.

But instead, Ginny surprised him by leaning into him and resting her head against his shoulder.

"Thanks," she mumbled, glancing up at him shyly. "My neck was kind of getting tired."

"No problem," Harry said, dazed by his good luck.

She continued to look at him, a soft smile playing on her lips and Harry suddenly found that his throat was very dry.

In fact, his whole body seemed to be in some strange state – maybe he was sick. His heart was beating a little too fast, his cheeks were heating up, his eyes temporarily blurred and his hands became clammy. And, most of all, he couldn't take his eyes away from Ginny's face.

She tilted her head questioningly as he continued to stare. "What is it?" she asked softly, shifting so that his arm rested more comfortably around her shoulders. "Is there something weird about the way I look or something? Something incredibly bizarre and fascinating?"

Harry shook his head, gulping hard. This felt… well, it felt right. And at the same time, it felt utterly terrifying. He couldn't shake the feeling that at any moment now, Ron was going to come in and wake him up by jumping on his bed. Or that Ginny was going to burst into laughter and tell him that this was all some big delusion, that he wasn't really sitting here with his arm around the girl he'd loved for quite a while.

Years, in fact.

Merlin, he was pathetic.

Ginny was still looking at him with _that _look on her face. In fact, she was now biting at her lower lip worriedly. "Are you okay?" she asked, leaning in closer with a scrutinizing look. "You look a little flushed."

At that moment, Harry could not help himself – he resorted to his usual practice of behaving in a stupid or rash manner whenever he was nervous.

As Ginny opened her mouth in shock, Harry did something he never though he'd have the courage to do.

He leaned in and kissed her.

**yay:D **

**the story's ending soon. i think there's going to be one more chapter and then an epilogue. no sequel, because i don't want to commit to that, but i might start putting up random harry/ginny one-shots up. hehehe. kind of continuation one-shots, but we'll see. that's just the concept right now.**

**well, what are you waiting for? click review and tell me what you thought of this chapter!**


	13. Chapter 13

**yikes. i've been bad -- forgive me. i know this update took forever (sorry, sorry!), but i haven't been in a writing mood lately. really, i haven't been able to write fiction/poetry/fanfiction, etc. it's awful. maybe it's the heat wave... i never want to turn on my computer and sit there to type because i'd rather sit by the AC vent and eat popsicles.**

**however, here's the chapter everyone's been looking for -- the last chapter! wheee. enjoy it, please. i'm so thankful for all the reviews and faves! you guys made me feel fantastic, and i really appreciate all the support. :D  
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**many thanks to the following for staying with this story throughout: ReenaP87, carolguin, Lily-Sun, Ehlonna, VGJunky158, pippastef, miz felton, phoenixdreamer55, emcm, syntheticxsunshine, PiecesofEight, DarkyDearest, LalaLovely47, crazedykid, sweetblonde15, The Fallen Angel 89, Ellin Finer, velcroSUNSHINE, liinx, Priestess kohana, hpanai, StaringStars, Gint2, ponyrox, foolwiz, and Katherine Katrina Katrine.  
**

**elvengirl9: yay! you're back to reviewing my stories (even if it's just for the very end, lol). but anyways, always happy to see you back. i'm glad you're enjoying this one -- and really, i have no idea how you waggle your eyebrows. i have tried myself, but i am eyebrow-inept because i can't even seem to lift one. very sad. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**imagination-on-the-run: ahh, people will not die without my story, haha. anyways, glad you like it so much! i'm thinking of doing ron and hermione's wedding for the epilogue, so we'll see how that goes! **

**JamieBell: aah yikes! i hate finishing stories -- it's always hard to figure out what to do. i had issues with this one - that's why it took so long. i just know that when you do yours, it shall be fantastic. and of course, i am looking forward to it dearly. :) however, it's almost criminal that you haven't seen love actually. go rent it! it's adorable. thanks for keeping with this story... it's been quite encouraging. **

**CaliciaHGluv: aww, don't be sad -- i really had to end this story. hahah, but hopefully, this chapter will cheer you up! thanks for being such a good reviewer; honestly, i don't know what i would've done without all the reviews. i would've probably stopped writing. **

**Elmire: ahh, hope you like this chapter! anyway, cowriting a story sounds really interesting. how about you send me an email and we could maybe work it out? i'm not sure what you mean (one chapter at a time, or what?). but i'm sure we could figure something out and it could be a lot of fun. :) anyways, looking forward to hearing from you as always. **

**Sabriel Anna: gah, of COURSE hugh grant is hot. that scene where he's dancing to "jump" - wonderful. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks for sticking with the story for sooo very long.**

**Jimmy: hey Jimmy. Thanks for picking up this story! Anyways, i'm glad you like self-conscious harry... i'm always a little worried that i'm overdoing it, but he's just so adorable and endearing when he doubts himself! ah, anyways, enjoy this chapter!**

**Here you go: **

If you asked Harry, he would've told you that the kiss, though rather shocking – I mean, _he_ didn't even know he had such nerve! – could pretty much be summed up in two words. Bloody brilliant.

There was, of course, the little niggling feeling in the back of his mind that as soon as this was over (which would undoubtedly be in just a few seconds… as there was the little problem of oxygen), he would have to face the consequences. And the consequences could very well be bad.

For example, Ginny could pull away and fix him with that _look_. The one that meant, "You have exactly five seconds to get out of my flat before I kill you."

Or she could skip the look and promptly begin throwing things at him.

Or, worse yet, she could call upon the wrath of the Ministry of Magic – "Rape, rape!" – or (gulp) that of her older brothers.

All around… this could potentially turn out to be the stupidest thing that Harry had ever done. But at the moment, with her mouth mashed against his, and his hands buried somewhere in her hair (how that had happened, he didn't know. But her hair was just as soft as he remembered) – nothing really mattered. In fact, at the moment, Harry was thinking that this was the _best_ idea he ever had.

But alas, it could not last forever, because at that exact moment, Ginny pulled away, and as predicted, fixed him with a rather inscrutable look. But it wasn't exactly a "get out right now" kind of look. It was different – she furrowed her forehead and bit her lower lip, tilting her head as she looked up at him. She looked both confused and frustrated. Harry decided that it was an altogether rather adorable look on her.

"Harry," she said softly, her voice slow and measured. "What was that?"

For a moment, he couldn't respond. What was he supposed to say? I mean, she was simply perfect and he had just kissed her. He could have either botched up his chances spectacularly, or maybe, maybe if he could actually get his tongue to work correctly, he'd be able to articulate exactly what she meant to him. I mean, how hard could it be to say, "Hey Ginny, _that_ was just a show of my undying love and affection for you. I reckon you're the only girl I'll ever love, so could you please give me a chance"?

It didn't seem _that_ difficult, did it?

The fact that his Adam's apple seemed to have frozen in his throat blocking his words wasn't exactly helping, but he could get something out. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. Apparently he was taking too long.

"Err," he managed.

Though Ginny was clearly flustered (if that blush spreading across her cheeks was any indication), she still found the composure to roll her eyes and snort in a rather unladylike fashion. Her nostrils even flared.

Harry thought that if he wasn't so bloody in love with her, he might've found that moment rather unattractive. But luckily for her, she was _still_ every bit as adorable when she was flaring her nostrils like a fighter bull or something. And thus, Harry was _still_ rendered mute by the sight of her.

"I'm sorry?" he ventured, testing the waters to see if maybe, maybe that was the right thing to say. He swallowed his saliva nervously.

Ginny narrowed her eyes and scowled. The blush completely faded from her face.

Oh, this was a bad sign.

"Right," she said in a rather icy tone, crossing her arms across her chest and scooting to the other end of the couch, away from him. This was very, very bad. "_Right_. Go ahead and say sorry, Harry, like this was a mistake. Because I'm sure you would _never_ kiss poor little Ginny Weasley of your own volatile."

She… what?

"No, that's… I mean," Harry fumbled, raking a hand through his hair desperately as his neck warmed up. Really, he was no good at explaining these things, and Ginny clearly had the wrong idea. "I mean, that's not… oh Merlin."

She shook her head. "No, don't worry about explaining," she said, her voice losing it's hard edge as she looked down at her hands. "No, I get it… You didn't mean it; you got caught up in the moment. There's no need to explain. It's just that I thought… oh," she sighed. "Never mind."

She stood up and started to walk away, gesturing towards the hallway awkwardly. "Um, I think I have to get something from the kitchen," she stammered in a way that was very uncharacteristic of Ginny.

Harry was quite the coward when it came to relationships, and twice the coward when it came to Ginny specifically. But this time, he saw that he had to be the savior of this awful, awful situation. And he wasn't going to like it (because frankly, he wasn't very good at it), but what was a bloke to do? The girl of his dreams was walking away under the assumption that he hadn't wanted to kiss her in the first place.

And he has bloody well wanted to kiss her _a lot_.

Now it was just a matter of getting her to realize that without reducing himself to a blathering idiot or a pile of ash (after all, Ginny did some fine spellwork). Easier said that done, really.

"Err, wait!" he said as he stood up, steadying himself against the sofa arm. This was the part where he had to go chase after the girl, and it was rarely an easy task.

Ginny turned around, an exasperated expression on her face. "What now?" she asked, hands on hips.

And so, this was the moment of truth, so to speak. This was the moment where Harry was supposed to overcome his enormous cowardice and just take the plunge. And well… it was proving to be more difficult than he thought. He stared at her blankly and opened his mouth once or twice, letting out a strangled sound.

Rather like a dying sea creature, really.

Ginny's frustrated expression slid off, replaced by one of considerable concern. She took a hesitant step forward. "Alright there, Harry?" she asked, clearly wracking her brain as to what could be wrong with him. "Did you choke on something? Um…" she paused, mentally going through the list of things Harry could've choked on. "A button, perhaps? A dust bunny? Your own saliva?"

Harry gave a strangled chuckle, which only heightened Ginny's concern. "Should I floo over to St. Mungo's, Harry?"

Harry shook his head furiously. "NoitsjustthatIloveyou," he blurted out.

Ginny looked a bit taken aback. "You… yum me?" She asked, with a rather confused look upon her face. "Sorry, Harry, but you'll have to speak up. I can't quite understand you when you mumble like that. Nasty habit, really."

Harry shook his head again miserably. "No, it's just that I… err, fancy you quite a bit," he muttered awkwardly, taking care to enunciate. "Or maybe, you know. I reckon that I might love you."

There was a stunned silence. Ginny stood with her arms at her side limply, opening and closing her mouth silently. Though Harry was cringing – bracing himself for the explosion, really – he couldn't help but notice with some degree of amusement that Ginny looked like a little guppy.

Would she ever let him call her that?

Ginny the Guppy.

That was probably something he should ask later, rather than overwhelm her now. So he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Ginny blinked owlishly at him, taking an uncertain step forward. "You _what_?" she asked, blinking even more rapidly. Harry began to get worried. She looked rather like she had suddenly been hit with amnesia.

Harry didn't know whether he was supposed to answer that question, but he figured it'd probably be safest to clarify. "Love you," he mumbled again, staring at his feet.

They were suddenly quite fascinating. Especially his red and orange striped socks. He hadn't remembered picking those out this morning. In fact, he hadn't even remembered buying them. They must've been a gift from someone.

Ginny lapsed into another period of silence. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"Oh," she said. Harry glanced up quickly to find that she was staring at her feet as well.

Pink socks with white polka dots.

"Oh," she said again.

"Yeah," Harry nodded miserably, keeping his eyes focused on his socks.

There was another awkward silence.

"You know," Ginny broke in, sounding slightly confused. "I didn't know. I never had any idea."

Harry gaped at her. Never had any idea?! Never had any idea?! Hadn't he made himself clear enough? Fear forgotten, he sputtered at her, "What do you mean, you never had any idea?! I practically paraded it right in front of you!"

Ginny's head snapped up. "Well you never said anything!" she protested.

"You should've realized it!" Harry yelled back. "I'm always following you around like a lost puppy."

Ginny grimaced and yelled back hotly, "I thought you felt sorry for me or something! I mean, how am I supposed to know what you're bloody thinking? I'm not a psychic!"

She crossed her hands over her chest and glowered at him.

Harry glared back at her.

They stood for a moment.

Ginny's angry expression fell. "Wait," she said. "Why are we mad at each other again?"

They stood for another moment in the room, facing each other with slightly confused (and shameful) looks on their faces. Harry was convinced that she was going to explode at him (or laugh at him, which was potentially worse), and Ginny was pretty sure that she had heard wrong. But Harry _had_ said it twice. And so… she glanced at his hangdog expression, his pleading eyes.

He seemed to be telling the truth.

Harry bit his lip and stared at the floor some more. He was getting to the point where he was rather familiar with the threads of her carpet. Perhaps a little _too _familiar.

Ginny took a deep breath and took a couple steps forward. She stood just a few inches away from Harry, her toes facing his as she stared pointedly at his chest, willing her cheeks _not_ to turn redder than tomatoes.

Unfortunately, they didn't listen.

Harry gulped and looked down at her head, which was still a little bowed as she scrutinized his sweater quite intently.

…What was she doing?

Was she looking for weak spots?

Was she going to knee him right where it hurt the most?

…Harry clenched his thighs together, just in case.

And then Ginny did something completely unexpected. With another deep breath, she set her shoulders, tilted her head up and pressed her lips against his.

Harry unconsciously found himself wrapping his arms around her slight frame as she stood up on tiptoe, her hands on his shoulders. When he had recovered from the shock, Ginny pulled away just a little bit and grinned at him, her cheeks still red.

"Well," she murmured. "I couldn't let you have all the fun, now could I?"

…Well, this was rather unexpected. Ginny tilted her head and smiled up at Harry coyly.

He gulped.

"No," he managed to respond, leaning forward to peck her on the forehead. This was a move that was both terrifying and thrilling, as it suddenly occurred to him that he might be able to do this in the future. A lot. "No. I reckon you couldn't."

Ginny blinked at him, smiled some more and leaned forward to nuzzle her nose against his chest. "Now aren't you going to ask me out?" she asked, her voice muffled by his sweater.

Harry chuckled. "I guess that's the next step, right?"

Ginny snorted into his sweater. "Well for most blokes it is," she retorted. "But since you seem to take a little longer than most, I'm not really expecting it for another three years. So you can take your time."

Harry took hold of her shoulders and pushed her away from him gently. Ginny's face emerged (after all, it had been squished against his chest) and she quirked one side of her mouth up at him, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Well," he said awkwardly. "I don't, well, I don't really want to make you wait." He ran a hand through his hair nervously. "I mean, I reckon you've waited long enough – we've both waited long enough. What I mean to say is…" he gulped again. What if she changed her mind? "I mean… I know I'm not the greatest conversationalist, and I always run into things, and I'm not very suave or romantic, but…" he trailed off, looking at her pleadingly. "I'd like it if you could be my… you know."

Ginny tilted her head. "Your girl?" she finished for him.

Harry nodded, blushing. "Yeah, that."

Ginny giggled, covering one hand with her hand. "Yeah," she said, nodding slowly, a grin spreading across her face. "Yeah, I'll be _that_."

It was just too much. Harry could do little but stand and stare at her for a few minutes as he grinned like an idiot. Ginny grinned back, but soon that was replaced by an impatient look.

"Now Harry," she admonished with a twinkle in her eye as she placed her hands on her hips. "You can't just stand there and stare at me like that."

Harry visibly deflated. He rather liked staring at her. "I can't?"

"No," Ginny responded solemnly, shaking her head. "Do you think I waited all those years for you to stand there and slobber at me? Come here, you."

And with a laugh, she reached her arms around Harry's shoulders and leaned up to kiss him again.

And it was brilliant.

------------------------------------------

Two weeks later, Harry and Ginny found themselves walking hand in hand through Diagon Alley as Ron and Hermione trailed behind them, bickering over the table arrangements for their wedding reception.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him as Ron let out another angry expletive. "Here they go again," she groaned. "You should've seen them at dinner last night – even Mum cleared out of the kitchen to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. It's getting brutal, I tell you."

Harry chuckled. "Can you imagine when they have kids?"

Ginny shook her head as she swung their arms between them. "Ron, a father?" she snorted. "Please. That boy can barely take care of himself."

It had been two weeks – two blissful weeks of flooing over to Ginny's for late-night snacks and long, leisurely lunches. It had been two weeks of hearing her laugh, of helping her prank her brothers, of snickering at Hermione and Ron behind their backs. It had been two weeks of memorizing the taste of her lips, the shape of her eyes and the way she bit her lip whenever she was about to laugh at an inappropriate moment (such as when Hermione had a minor meltdown over whether to have sixteen or eighteen rosettes on the flower girl dresses).

In all… it had been two perfect weeks.

And as Ginny leaned her head against Harry's shoulder, he reckoned that it wasn't about to end anytime soon.

Really, two weeks was just the start.

THE END.

**Thanks, thanks, thanks again to ALL my reviewers -- you have been fabulous. This is the official end, but i am still pretty set on the idea of doing an epilogue.**

** It'll probably take place at Ron and Hermione's wedding :). Naturally. **

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	14. Chapter 14

**omg this story is over, it's really over. anyway, i tried to give extra care and attention to this dear little epilogue, and i hope everyone enjoys it. thanks for being so fabulous!**

It was ten minutes 'til the ceremony and Hermione was already in tears. "What if I mess it up?" she blubbered, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief while Ginny desperately cast repairing charms on her make-up and hair (just in case). "What if _he_ messes it up? You know Ron," she sniffed. "He wouldn't mean to, but it'd be just like him to show up late or forget my name or something."

Caroline and Ginny looked at each other and simultaneously rolled their eyes. Hermione's Muggle cousin had grown quite accustomed to the wizarding world by now, and she didn't seem the least bit fazed by the elaborately magical preparations that took place in order to transform the banquet hall into Hermione's dream wedding. The hall was decked out in silver with twinkling stars on the ceiling. It was only natural that Hermione would want to emulate her favorite place – Hogwarts –when planning her wedding, after all.

"You should see her every year at Christmas," Caroline mouthed as she brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear and shuffled over to comfort Hermione. "She's a bloody nutcase."

Ginny straightened the hem of her silver sheath and looked at herself in the mirror. She was still glowing, as her Mum liked to point out regularly. "Finally, you're in love!" she'd sigh wistfully at dinner, before force-feeding Ginny and Harry some more pie.

The older brothers had given Harry a hard time, but only because it was tradition. Every bloke that Ginny brought home went through the same inquisition and a barrage of threats. Ron had joined in apologetically. "Sorry… I know you're my best mate and all," he had said, shrugging slightly. "But if you hurt or defile my sister… you know I'll have to shove a quaffle down your throat and make you swallow it."

Harry had withstood this treatment rather well, gulping and stammering as was his habit, but still standing determinedly by Ginny's side. He even held her hand as her brothers glared on, even though Ginny noted with interest that his palms were rather clammy and he stood rather stiffly.

But things were okay now.

In fact, things were _more_ than okay. They had just… well, they had just reached that point where they were _so_ comfortable with each other. Harry wasn't awkward around her anymore and she found herself loosening the expectations that she usually felt with other wizards. No need to be demure and ladylike – Harry wouldn't buy that act, anyway. Playing hard to get? Forget it. She was just thrilled to be with him finally.

And Harry got her jokes, laughed at her quirks and random observations.

Things were bloody brilliant, really.

"Oh, what am I going to do?!" Hermione wailed, breaking into Ginny's love struck reverie. She was slumped over on a chair, her long silk gown trailing on the floor as she fanned herself with her hands frantically. "What if this is all a mistake?"

The bridesmaids were all getting nervous. Luna had disappeared (no doubt for a rendezvous with Neville), Caroline was sending Ginny distinct "get over here and help me!" looks, Hannah had escaped to the bathroom, and Ginny was really at a loss for what to do. A panicked Hermione was never, ever good. Ginny knew this from experience. One year, Professor Binns had marked the wrong grade on one of Hermione's essays, and it had been _dreadful_. The girl had cried herself to sleep for three nights until classes on Monday, when the whole situation was resolved.

She was about to steel herself and go over to offer some useless bit of advice when Hermione's mum strolled in, dressed in a pale green silk suit. She took one look at her daughter and placed her hands on her hips, mouth twitching. "What's wrong, dear?" she demanded.

Hermione looked up, still distraught. "I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, Mum," she explained, bursting into a new round of tears. "I mean, what if I'm not ready for this? What if _he's_ not ready for this? What if we're not right for each other and we just end up hating each other?"

Hermione's mother crossed the room in several strides and came to her daughter's side. She knelt down and gently placed a hand on Hermione's back. "Do you remember what you used to say to me every time you came home for the holidays?" she asked her daughter.

Hermione shook her head.

Mrs. Granger smiled softly. "You were only eleven when you came back for the summer holidays after your first year at Hogwarts," she said. "But you told me that you'd made some new friends. 'Harry is so famous,' you told me. 'But Ron… Mum, he's so aggravating! I don't even know why I'm friends with him, but I'm glad that I am.'"

Hermione sniffled and looked up.

"And you'd talk about him every single time you came home. Ron was messy; Ron was so mean to you. Ron was brilliant; Ron was so exasperating. Ron was so kind in his own way; Ron was so dense sometimes. He's all you ever talked about," she chuckled, shaking her head as she looked at her daughter. "You missed him terribly when you were home, and even when you were twelve I could tell that you were in love with him."

Hermione still looked uncertain. "But," she croaked. "What if he doesn't love me back?"

Mrs. Granger snorted and rolled her eyes. "You're a bright girl, dear, but you can be terribly dense sometimes," she said, swatting Hermione on the shoulder gently. "That boy would do _anything_ for you. If anyone can put up with you when you're stressed out and panicking, it's Ron. He's been in love with you for literally a dozen years."

Hermione nodded and sniffled again, giving her mother a watery smile. "I guess you're right," she admitted, clearing her throat.

Mrs. Granger wiped away her daughter's tears and clucked over her hair. "Alright," she said, once again businesslike and brisk. "Now we've got to get you looking presentable again! You don't want to be all red-eyed and snotty when you go down the aisle, do you?!"

Ginny and Caroline sighed in relief and shuffled out to the foyer to get ready for the ceremony. The boys were already waiting there, looking rather bored as they stood with their hands in their pockets and looked around. Hannah sat on a bench, fixing her hair and makeup.

Luna and Neville were, as always, seated cross-legged on the floor, laughing hysterically at some joke that no one else would probably understand. Harry and the twins, though, visibly brightened when they saw Ginny and Caroline approach.

Caroline made her way over to the twins, who greeted her with glee.

"Hey," Harry said, rushing over and taking Ginny by the elbow.

Ginny giggled and raised an eyebrow. "Why Harry," she exclaimed in mock-surprise. "Aren't you gallant today?"

"It's the dress robes," he explained, running a hand through his hair and grinning sheepishly. "They make me feel like I'm one of those suave blokes who know how to put on cuff links and can charm the socks off of any girl."

Ginny leaned up on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his ear, smirking inwardly as he shivered. "Well you're not quite there yet," she whispered. "But I must say you're getting close. My wool socks are _definitely_ at risk of being charmed off."

She withdrew, noting with satisfaction the flustered look on Harry's face. It was rather adorable and satisfying that she still had the power to make him do that face – the one where he looked so smitten and a little unsure of himself. He was just all-around adorable, like a little puppy or a lost parakeet. "So anyways," she said, changing the subject. "Hermione was a nervous _wreck_ earlier, as we expected. How's Ron doing? Did he swallow his own bowtie or anything?"

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Well, he's… he's holding up," he said ruefully. "He's nervous as hell and he keeps turning red whenever we mention Hermione, but other than that, I think he'll be alright. He's been dreaming of this day since first year, anyway."

Ginny giggled.

"But err…" Harry turned a little red. "We all left as soon as your dad showed up and decided to talk to Ron about the wedding night."

Ginny's hands flew up to cover her mouth. "Ew!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, I know. I reckon Ron's pretty traumatized by now."

Ginny was about to open her mouth and fire back a retort when Mrs. Weasley rushed in, pushing them all into a line. "Time to go, time to go!" she shooed at them as the music swelled up.

Ginny took Harry's arm and grinned up at him. "I'll bet you twenty galleons that Ron cries before Hermione does," she proposed.

Harry quirked one of his eyebrows. "You're on," he returned.

------------------------------------------------------

The ceremony went without a hitch, thankfully.

Ron teared up as soon as Hermione appeared on her father's arm, smiling radiantly – ("No!" Harry hissed before slipping Ginny a bagful of galleons) – and both Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger sobbed through the ceremony.

Everything was lovely and tasteful, and Harry had to admit – Hermione's insane planning had paid off. Hermione and Ron managed to get through the ceremony without a single fight (which was kind of a record), and at the end, when, "You may now kiss the bride," was declared, Hermione launched herself into Ron's arms and kissed him rather energetically.

But if you asked Harry, he hadn't noticed all that much. Mostly because, well, his attentions were focused on one Miss Ginny Weasley. He really couldn't believe his good luck sometimes. Here he was, looking at the most brilliant and adorable witch he had ever met, and he could actually say that she was _his_. It was ridiculous how pretty she looked today, with that silver dress and her hair falling in curls over her shoulders. It was ridiculous how her eyes always looked like they were smiling. It was ridiculous how she could make even the corniest joke seem endearing.

Really, it was almost scary how much he loved her.

As if she could read his thoughts, Ginny looked over and caught his gaze. She mischievously stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes at him.

Harry checked his reaction for any reaction that resembled disgust or embarrassment. Nope, he still thought that she was utterly lovely.

As always.

After the ceremony, the hall was transformed into a lovely banquet hall with dozens of round tables, lovely place settings and dimmed lighting. Harry found himself tugged to the head table along with Ginny.

"Come on," Ginny said cheerfully. "We've got to sit up here so everyone can gawk at us and make us feel awkward about stuffing our faces. It's the curse of the wedding party, don't you know?"

Hermione and Ron were already seated, looking tired but thrilled. "I love this woman!" Ron exclaimed a little hysterically as Harry and Ginny approached, lifting Hermione's to show off the simple diamond band around her left ring finger. "I'm married to her!"

Hermione frowned, though she still blushed. "Honestly Ron," she berated, snatching her hand away. "Have you gotten into the champagne already? Oh, I can't believe it. You _promised_ me that you wouldn't be drunk at our wedding."

"I'm not drunk, woman," Ron snapped back, his moment of gushy love forgotten. "I was just _happy_, alright? Can't a man be happy on his wedding day? Sheesh."

They scowled at each other.

Ginny and Harry exchanged an amused look.

Just then, Luna and Neville came skipping through the crowd, Luna's dress floating behind her. Her eyes sparkled as she clutched Neville's hand – her wrist was decked out with plenty of bright baubles and a couple of wooden bangles.

"Neville's asked me to move in with him!" she gushed as Neville blushed. "Isn't that splendid? I can stay at home and make my jewelry while he's off teaching those children, and then when he comes back, we can go hunting for Singerabbits!"

"They're just professor's quarters," Neville mumbled embarrassedly. "Nothing much, but I just figured… you know… since we're, erm, together and all… I just wanted to know if you'd like that too…"

Luna cut him off with a peck on the cheek, to which Neville responded by beaming brightly.

It really was good to see all his friends happy, Harry thought as he watched them scamper off ("To dance, of course!" Luna exclaimed. "Not dancing at a wedding is just inviting bad luck burbles."). And Ron and Hermione were happy, despite the fact that they were probably going to glare at each other tensely for the next five minutes or so (before the first dance, at least).

But it was probably the best feeling to be happy himself. Harry stole a glance at Ginny, who was consulting her menu with a contemplative frown. She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Harry, can you do me a favor?" she asked sweetly.

Harry nodded without thinking.

"I'm trying to choose between the chicken pesto and the seafood ravioli," she explained. "So how about you order one and I order the other? We can split. Come on, Harry. Be a pal."

And so, of course, because Harry couldn't refuse Ginny (and also because she had a voracious appetite and would be cranky if she didn't get enough food), he acquiesced. They ended up sharing their plates. Harry watched as Ginny forked a piece of his ravioli and then guiltily replaced it with some of her own pasta.

"You don't have to look like you're stealing from me," he pointed out. "I did agree."

"I know," Ginny responded. "But I'm always taking food from you. You're sure you don't mind?"

"I never mind," Harry answered truthfully, and Ginny blushed and smiled as she went back to her food.

The rest of the reception passed peacefully, with only three more spats between Hermione and Ron. They involved:

-Ron's inability to push his chair in when he stood up for the first dance,

-The precise way to cut a cake,

-And, of course, Ron's hand roaming a little _too_ far up when he fetched the garter.

"It could've been worse," Ginny murmured in Harry's ear as she rested her head against his shoulder during one of the last dances of the evening. He instinctively tightened his arms around her waist. "I mean, I was expecting them to start hurling food at each other or something."

"Agreed," Harry responded, glancing down at the top of Ginny's head. He looked around the room to see the typical Weasley family energy still going strong. The twins were off pranking guests, Bill's kids were hopping around the dance floor and Mr. Weasley was asking Mr. Granger about Muggle devices.

After the reception, Harry and Ginny stayed behind to help clean up. Hermione sat dazed in a chair, cataloguing her wedding presents as Harry and Ginny cast cleaning charms around the room. Ron had fallen asleep in his chair.

"The Malfoys sent a present," Hermione remarked. "Reckon I should open it?"

Harry shook his head. "Better just toss it. It's probably cursed."

Hermione shrugged and tossed it aside. "Wouldn't put it past him," she muttered as she sorted through the rest of the boxes. "Dish sets, a collapsible cauldron… great Merlin, _baby clothes_?"

At the sound of the word "baby," Ron awoke with a start, rubbing his eyes as he turned blearily to Hermione. "What'd you say?" he asked.

"Look," Hermione said wryly, holding up the knit baby jumper. "Your aunt Mildred gave us some clothes for the nonexistent baby. Do you think she's trying to tell us something?"

Ron turned very red and muttered something about meddling old bats.

Ginny threw Harry an amused glance as she charmed away the hanging decorations. She was tired, but she still looked lovely. Her hair had started to come undone and she had taken off her shoes, but Harry thought she looked prettier when she was like this, twirling around a room barefoot as glitter got caught in her hair.

He came up behind her, breathing into her hair as she leaned back into him. "Almost done?" he asked quietly.

"Just about," she responded, turning around and stepping on his shoes so that she could look him in the face. "Are you coming home with me tonight?"

Harry chuckled. "I'm thinking that I should probably just stop paying rent for my flat – I might as well just move in with you," he paused, wrinkling his forehead with a frown. "I mean, if that's alright with you. No pressure."

"Of course it's alright, silly," she laughed as he sighed in relief. Her eyes sparkled as she poked the tip of his nose with her finger. "Who would I bother if you weren't there? I'd have no one to pick on. Life would be dreadfully dull."

"Oh if you're going to be all sappy, you two," Ron grumbled, breaking into their romantic bantering. "Just go." He waved his hand dismissively. "I'd like some time with my new wife, anyway."

Having procured permission, Harry and Ginny bade the newlyweds goodnight ("Be good!" Ginny cried jovially as she kissed them both on the cheek) and apparated back to Ginny's flat.

Harry shed his jacket and shoes and padded into the kitchen as Ginny retreated into her bedroom to change out of her dress and heels, which were apparently "bloody killing" her feet.

He quickly made some hot chocolate and poured it into mugs, adding giant marshmallows. Ginny loved hot chocolate and especially loved sprawling out on the couch together as they sipped hot chocolate and watched Muggle DVDs. She and Harry went on regular excursions to Muggle London, where they'd visit video stores and find new restaurants.

Ginny entered the kitchen, clad in a pair of cotton shorts with snitches on them and a giant white sweatshirt. She took one look at the hot chocolate and grinned. "You are spectacular, you know that?" she remarked as Harry handed her one of the mugs.

They made their way to the living room, where Harry sat down on the couch and Ginny snuggled up against him. Neither of them made a move to turn on the television.

"That was nice, wasn't it?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded. "I love weddings," she sighed wistfully. "And theirs was so lovely, you know? They were Hogwarts sweethearts, practically – in love with each other since their first year. How many people can say that?"

"Weren't you in love with me your first year?" Harry teased.

Ginny scowled at him and promptly buried her face into his sweater. "Don't make fun of me," she said, her voice muffled. "I was young and smitten. And if you even _mention_ that valentine, I will hex you right now."

Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. "Consider it forgotten then," he promised. "Anyways, today got me thinking... weddings are kind of nice, aren't they?"

Ginny nodded into his chest.

"And I was just thinking," he continued. "That it would be rather nice if _we_ had one someday."

There was a pause, and then Ginny's head shot up, her incredulous face suddenly inches away from his. "Are you asking me to _marry _you, Harry James Potter?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Not now or anything," Harry said quickly, trying to placate her. "I just wanted you to know that I definitely plan on marrying you and having lots of children with you someday, so maybe," he trailed off, running a hand through his hair as he reddened. "I thought I'd give you a heads up. So you know… if you're not prepared for that, or if that's not what you were expecting… you can get out of this now."

Ginny blinked up at him and Harry cursed himself. Why did he go and say these awkward things all the time? Why couldn't he just… enjoy things as they were? Didn't he remember that it was just _scary_ and _creepy_ to suddenly bring up marriage and children this early? Well… at least he hadn't mentioned his plans to pass on his invisible cloak to the grandchildren. That might've made it worse.

Ginny finally smirked and shifted so that she sat straddling his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. "You are so bloody noble sometimes," she said, grinning at him. "But don't worry, dear. You're not going to scare me away anytime soon."

And with that, she lowered her mouth to his and snogged him senseless.

And all was well with the world for a long, long time.

**THE REAL END.**

**aww, i'm going to miss working on this story, and also i'm going to miss all the kind reviews! send me some last love notes please, sniffle. 3**


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